


we make our homes in the dark

by shoulderbone (lavenderforluck)



Series: Accidental Dating Au [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, But also pretty canon compliant, Coming Out, Friends With Benefits, I Don't Even Know, Inner Dialogue, M/M, Miscommunication, Recreational Drug Use, a gross amount of movie references, also i forgot to mention magnus or madhi but they're there i swear, but accidentally, lots of pot smoking basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderforluck/pseuds/shoulderbone
Summary: In which newly single Even writes a guideline for hook ups, but then he meets Isak, and nothing much goes to plan after that. Accidental dating AU.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> er, so this was born out of procrastination concerning my other verse, and the third part i am supposed to be writing. I am totally writing it, but then I had to write this for a second. Shit happens. 95% of this story is already written, however the second part will be posted on Sunday at the latest.
> 
> this is another one of those accidentally-dating-au with a twist. I know, I know. But I couldn't help myself. The plot itself is inspired and largely taken from a classic Teen Wolf fic titled [My Heart Comes Tumbling Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/781057) by DevilDoll. Read it, it's brilliant. 
> 
> In terms of canon-compliance, Even did have an episode at Bakka and it did involve Mikael, but he never transferred and the boys remain friends. Sonja is around briefly. The Nissen boy squad, the Girl squad and the Balloon squad (all these squads!) are all mutually acquainted/friends. I did take characterisation liberties when writing the Balloon Squad specifically. But this is nothing if not totally self-indulgent, so read at your own risk.
> 
> Warnings:  
> * I greatly enjoy smoking the devil's lettuce, which becomes very apparent throughout this fic. I put this as a warning because I know within canon (at least, I inferred this) that the balloon squad boys mostly abstained from drugs/alcohol due to their religion. I mean no disrespect in this aspect - I just wanted to write a funny lil uni!au where pot was featured, and from my own experience I had a handful of really devout Muslim friends who also partook in a little smokey treat now and then. So there we go.  
>    
> The lovely Immy looked over this, but all mistakes are definitely my own. I know I'm terrible when it comes to typos, so forgive me!
> 
> I've made a playlist for this story now. You can listen [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/margarete.travers/playlist/3dT33Su51DeUDHYv1F5gu2).
> 
> Title is from _Elegy for Two_ by Nico Amador. You can read the poem [here.](http://odeto-psyche.tumblr.com/post/177602980200/lifeinpoetry-i-beg-but-what-enters-is-grief)

 

> The boy is a beautiful view. You keep
> 
> opening the windows. Keep devouring
> 
> the night.
> 
> — **Karese Burrows,** from “Little Beast,” [ _This Is How We Lost Each Other_ ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2vMz7Gp&t=YTUzZGFiMzFmOGEwZjU2N2NlYmE2NjM3NjY5M2Q5NjJkMmU2ODIwNixVRjZuSnR0SQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A2rD_97LlOE6G-UXztT9NPQ&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsleepwalking.nu%2Fpost%2F177500825002%2Fthe-boy-is-a-beautiful-view-you-keep-opening-the&m=0)

 

[August]

The relative safety of summer, which bled from June to July and finally August like a slow drip, coagulant and supple; syrupy slow, should have indicated that something was amiss. Of course, Even knows that hindsight is everything, but when he thinks of the end of summer he assumed it would end with a congratulatory bang; instead his entire world feels like it’s become slightly unhinged. He wonders if he should be devastated. He wonders if he should feel guilty that he isn’t.

Bemused is more accurate. It’s easiest to understand if Even thinks of it like this: first there was the post-term transitional phase which was kind of lame and unpleasant. There was anxiety. But then slowly as the nights became shorter and the days held this buttery yellow quality, Even began attending parties with his friends and his girlfriend every weekend, seeing people drink and smoke and laugh together. Or they’d sit out in the evenings just hanging around, in the park or at someone’s house, or along the water for hours. No one had to be anywhere; no one was particularly committed; all of them on their summer holidays from university or just about to enter after high school.

July and August became one blur of walking around a sanguine city in the low light of endless dwindling evenings. The distant hum of tinny music always seemed nearby, and there were countless half-drunk conversations to have on doorsteps and empty parks during twilight hours. Sonja was there. And then she wasn’t.

Even was already apprehensive about the impending transition again into term and a change of weather; it always made him anxious considering his moods. And then Sonja quite abruptly ended their relationship the last Sunday in August, sitting across from Even, her silhouette outlined by their bedroom window, her mouth unsmiling.

Perhaps abrupt is the wrong word: in terms of all things considered, they had a fairly good run. Six years is a long time to be with someone. But this was exactly Sonja’s point, and after only some reluctance, Even had to begrudgingly concede. The fact that they made it this long was about all that Even was proud about the relationship. This is a fact he regretted very much. He wished they loved each other more, but he couldn’t imagine how to love her more.

This too, kept him awake at night.

 

-

 

[September]

Once the beginning of term has settled and the residual summer buzz finally dissipates, the smell of September sadness permeates his entire range of senses. Summer ends abruptly; no slow taper in a lulling autumn; instead Even finds himself in a different part of campus with a new tram route home to a new flat, at once elated and displaced. Fall can be traumatic for him. These are the days which begin to shrivel up and the nights creep in closer, the air turns into this crisp brightness that feels inviting and chilling at the same time. And then sooner than he’d prefer the leaves will start to turn colour.

By Wednesday of his first week Even finds himself daydreaming up idyllic scenarios where he’s curled up with a perfectly steamed latte and a good film, all of his course work completed and his sheets newly clean and cozy.

He tells himself it’s post-summer blues sobering his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the forefront: there’s work to start, and new people to meet, and the wave of infectious energy that wafts through campus in the first few weeks of term starting. This year he can’t tell if he feels displaced by it or thrilled; there’s an anxiety attached to leaving behind everything he knew before and entering back into socialising a slightly different person.

Here’s what he wants to know: who is single, living-with-other-dudes university student Even? What does he like to do now that he doesn’t have bi-weekly movie night with Sonja and seeing Thursday-reserved for her friends and wine nights, or simply all the random places he associates with Sonja throughout the years, does he just find new places now? Does he suddenly stop his subscription to Little White Lies or does he simply change it to his new address? He should probably sign out of her Netflix account and finally get his own. These are the kind of questions that arrive at the most inopportune times and refuse to stop circling his brain until he’s dizzy.

Be as it may, this is precisely why he’s grateful to have become the fourth roommate with Mikael, Mutta and Elias. Yousef and Adam live practically across the hall, and his parents are closer to him here than when he lived nearer to the university with Sonja. In all honesty, it was the best outcome of this entire predicament Even’s found himself in.

It started when Even had sent Mikael a string of pathetic messages lamenting the probable likelihood of him having to last minute move into university housing, or worse, back in with his parents. And for once, rather than supplying a sassy meme, Mikael actually had a solution.

Mikael [23:44] well dude, we just found out that we do need a fourth roommate after all

Mikael [23:44] ur lucky too, bc we all love Jonas’ room but it's too late to switch around, so you get the gold room. Mutta is already sour grapes abt it but he’ll forgive u if you let him explain to u his x-files conspiracy theory

Mikael [23:45] but you know there’s one condition

Even [23:45] What’s that? I cant put up my full scale Pretty Woman tapestry up in the living room?

Mikael [23:47] that would be funny if i knew u didnt actually have one of those

Mikael [23:47] you have to apologise to elias or he wont let u step a foot into this house

Even [23:48] for gods sake this is ridiculous

Mikael [23:49] Even

Mikael [23:50] just admit that space jam was one of the best cartoon-human crossovers and all will be forgotten. He’s just not letting it go and we’re all going nuts

Even [23:51] has the man SEEN Enchanted? Because this argument would have been over ages ago

Mikael [23:51] ….Even

Even [23:52] ….Mikael

Mikael [23:53] we can talk about it when you pick your keys up tomorrow. See ya in class u stubborn ass bitch

Even [23:56] hey!!...takes one to know one

Even [23:57] ;) roomie

The new flat is in Tøyen. It’s made up of four bedrooms and a kitchen-cum-lounge organised by one narrow hallway, connecting each room like a row of dominoes lined up in a shoe box. Regardless the windows are large and all the walls painted a startling, clean off-white. Except for Even’s room, which, true to its name, has a crudely painted gold door and balcony door. He can understand the jealousy. It’s just the right amount of bizarre for him; regardless Even’s still becoming accustomed to calling it his home now. It makes the break up feel finally real.

On the second Friday of September, Even finds Adam and Mutta camped out in the living room, a residual mixture of weed and incense redolent to their household. The living room is their only true social space, dominated by a large television and a sectional couch big enough to fit six boys at the very least, and more than enough marijuana paraphernalia littered about a wooden trunk planted in the middle of an inherited Persian rug. Crucially, it’s endearing and homey; nothing is becoming more familiar than the sound of the bong ripping mixed with the canned laughter of Friends playing in the background mixed with the boys’ voices, louder or softer at different intervals.

Already Even is understanding that living with the boys is starting to appear slightly like a stoner-bro-comedy, and they’re never out of scene. As of right now Adam is giving Mutta a low down of the party they’re attending tonight, and Mutta is balancing both his lighter, the remote and a densely filled bowl of cereal on his lap; Even can’t help but notice they’re both wearing near identical black sweatshirt and track pant combinations; both the hats on the top of their heads are similar shades of dark green, worn without a hint of irony.

“Even,” Adam breaks his line of enquiry about what kind of beer he should bring to acknowledge Even’s presence in their attached kitchen. “Even, man.”

“I believe that’s still my name,” Even replies.

“Bro, I swear you played that sad ass 1975 song like four times yesterday, and it was giving me major emo feelings,” Adam says through a mouthful of cereal.

Mutta nods, spoon halfway between his mouth and the bowl. “It’s true. I had to put on Fresh Prince because he was getting so down. We can’t have any bromades over here suffering like this.”

Even raises his hand and wants to ask what a _bromade_ is, but Adam beats him to it.

“It’s like a bro-slash-comrade. A solidarity bro in arms,” Adam explains, “It was Jonas’s whole trip - that was his shit. Half the time he would explain this insane concept he studied in his degree, and it would evolve into like, this round table about axis of power and masculinity and shit. If we were feeling down we could talk about it with him and like, smoke it all out.”

Even just stares.

“Hey, don’t give me that look! This sofa is a judgement free zone. All we’re saying is, if you’re not feeling the energy yet, I’ve got a Himalayan salt lamp for the vibes and a big fat hunk of your finest Moroccan hashish,” he snaps for effect, “say the word and we’re here - like _that_.”

Adam mimics him with a snap of his fingers also. “Like that, bro. And then you don’t have to play sad music in your room probably bummin’ around like some maudlin H&M model.”

“Since when do you use words like ‘maudlin’?” Even can’t even bring himself to be offended really. It’s such a shrewdly articulated burn that he wants to laugh if he weren’t being totally called out. He feels a little attacked. 

Neither of them respond. Adam nods approvingly at Mutta’s offer. “Until then at least we’re here for you.”

“There is so much to unpack here,” Even remarks, and starts to make his lunch for later. “But I appreciate the support. And the concept.”

“Concepts are the shit,” Mutta agrees, readily shoving more cereal and crunching audibly. “This is why I study philosophy.”

“Is it ‘cause of Sonja?” Adam wonders aloud. Even shrugs. “You just need time and acceptance and we get that. But it could do you some good not to dwell on it too much either, you get me? You two were together for so long bro, it’s not gonna go away overnight. But maybe...a hobby? Or something to do? Find some kind of distraction!”

“Is this the part where you tell me I should smoke more weed and do more yoga?” Even rolls his eyes, “Because I’ve heard this type of the inner-consciousness-unlocked-by-weed tangent from you before.”

Adam just laughs, and takes a bong rip. When he blows out he continues. “I stand by what I said before dude. Mutta’s heard it, you’ve heard it, everyone’s freaking heard it. Weed connects you to the universe via the vehicle of your own consciousness, man. It totally makes you reflective if you open yourself to possibility. I’ve read so many books on the plant, and how it’s now being used - CBD especially in regulating the natural cannabinoids already deep within our own cell structures. And yoga is good for your health. There’s not even a discussion there. Last week I was hanging out at the library and I totally used the bean bags on the second floor to do my breathing exercises between study sessions.”

“Word,” Mutta nods, reaching over to fist bump Adam. “Self care isn’t just smelly candles.”

“Exactly. But I was thinking more along the lines of...Mutta, you know what he needs?” Adam asks.

Mutta nods, pushing his cereal to one cheek so he can talk, milk gathering in the cracks of his lips. “You need a hookup, bro. Classic distraction tactic.”

 

-

 

Even ruminates over it during class that afternoon. He smiles to himself thinking of their antics; the boys in almost any combination never fail to make him laugh. Humour has always been mere window dressing to how they really feel so he understands their supposition and the underlying care.

They’re right: he’s not exactly heartbroken, but he is kind of ….deflated, and perhaps a hook up would be the nice confidence boost he’s in need of. Plus, he’s been in a relationship for nearly six years! The more he thinks about it the more he realises the curiosity has been simmering underneath his consciousness for a while, obviously waiting for the perfect moment to come upon and strike him.

Still, it’s fucking scary. Even doesn’t know other people like _that._ Even’s always been taken and therefore untouchable; he’s never had to worry about who he went home with, and he’s never had to worry about his flirting to be anything but. After all, everyone in their circles always chalks it up to Even being Even. Funny, charismatic, tall-as-fuck-Even - _who has a girlfriend_.

Not anymore. Now he’s just kind of funny but mostly mopey, tall-as-fuck Even. Now as he looks around at all these random, beautiful faces sitting in class with him, something inside starts to stir. Dare he call it desire? This idea is embryonic and startling, he’s a little shy even to think it. A few seats down from him sits a boy with thin dreadlocks arranged in a complicated looking twist on the top of his head, two earrings dangling from one ear, and Even realises that yes, that’s definitely attraction, and God, he definitely _wants._

It takes him all about four seconds to realise that a hookup - or, as Mutta liked to ordain it: ‘a clearly organised set of boundaries that are consented upon prior to acts of engagement’ like _hello Even_ , don’t forget it’s 2018 and consent is a thing now, _bro_ \- could be possibly with a boy. He could hook up with a dude.

When he’s inundated with an idea like this the question of letting it go anytime soon flies right out the window with his common sense. So instead Even sets about making a list. It helps him organise exactly where his mind is going with this and prevents him from becoming more carried away than he already is. At least, that is what he tells his therapist.

He forgets all formality that he’s supposed to be listening to the lecture, and instead finds a new sheet of lined paper.

Even Bech Næsheim’s Potential Kiss List Rules (Autumn Edition)

  1. Must be Cute as Fuck (non-negotiable)
  2. Must be okay with flirting, kissing and mutually assured orgasms (consent!)
  3. Must have a healthy appreciation for film and music (at least, somewhat)
  4. Must be able to be friendly, and to end it at any time (ideally)
  5. Must not develop any feelings (Too serious. It’s time for fun now).



It’s the final draft he shows to the boys when they’re getting ready that night. Yousef and Adam have come back over, and they’re currently optioning Even’s room for the full size mirror that leans opposite his bed. Mutta sitting in the mess of blankets pre-rolling some party joints and playing Cezinando _because he’s a Norwegian jewel, Even_ , and Even can hardly argue with that. It’s nothing short of true.

“What does ‘healthy appreciation’ require, exactly,” Yousef asks once Even read them out with his pre-game beer and put upon bravado. He’s swings the hairdryer he’s holding so it’s point at Even, his round brush still sitting at the top of Yousef’s head mid-blowout. “I mean, what’s the boundary line here?”

“Think of it this way. I’m totally hooking up, and she pulls away and says, ‘You know The Last Airbender live action adaptation actually improved the series as a whole’ - that’s a cease and desist, bro. Line drawn. Adam’s out,” Adam supplies and Even nods vigorously in agreement.

They share a sigh.

“There are so many ways to draw the line. I mean, if I’m thick in the action and she pulls back to tell me “Cloud Atlas” is their favourite movie, I’d have to really reconsider my next move,” Adam supplies after a passing beat. He shudders.

“That movie was terrible,” Even agrees, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Shit was racist,” Mutta mutters. “But you can’t be too picky. For instance you can’t dismiss someone entirely for liking Judd Apatow because he’s a dick. Because there’s no way you can fault anyone for liking Bridesmaids.”

“Oh, fuck, that movie,” Yousef shakes his head and laughs.

Even smiles. “No, it’s more like, I don’t want someone to insist on their shitty ass movie opinions. So we have to at least like, harmonious but not the same. At the very least I just wanna be able to throw out a reference every once in a while and it doesn’t fall fucking flat.”

“Aren’t you overthinking this a little?” Mikael appears in the doorway standing in his dark denim glory with his hair pulled up in a small bun. “The point of a rebound hookup is that there are no strings attached. I mean, the point isn’t to get to know them and their music preferences. ‘Cause those are strings, Even. You’re already planning out like four conversation points, which are what you use for dating. Which is not what you are trying to accomplish here.”

“Okay, sure, fair enough,” Even rolls his eyes. “But I’m not going to like, overlook it entirely if I meet someone with tragically bad taste. I’d at least try to save them.”

“I’m going to choose not to respond because you’re my bro, but even you have blind spots in taste once in a while. I wouldn’t call it bad, exactly...but questionable at times.”

“Excuse me!” Even shouts, laughter parting from his mouth, “What! When did you all decide this? Since when?!”

“You literally tried to convince us that Baz Luhrmann was the best director of all time - “

“No! Take that back! Firstly, I said he was _my_ favourite director of all time - ”

 

-

 

By midnight, Even’s had a few beers and a joint, and he’s swimming in a sea of elation, a feeling which becomes apparent only when one is standing in the convergence of energies from everyone around him. All these people he knows, who know each other, who have history and inside jokes and overlapping stories about what really happened; the laughter swells with the flow and ebb of the music, and his blood feels on fire, but he doesn’t feel sick at all, or lonely, or nervous. As far as party-moods go, it’s ideal.

They’re in Chris Berg’s apartment, who not only has the nicest balcony overlooking Olaf Ryes Plass, but also the best weed connections within their overlapping friend groups. He knows Chris through Elias, who knows her through his younger sister Sana. Currently he’s sitting across from Adam, sprawled on the sofa, and producing fat plumes of smoke perfuming the air, riddled with the absonant rhythm of the boy’s antics.

There’s a great cheer from the hallway at the arrival of someone else - possibly Jonas, from the shouting that ensues between what sounds like Elias and Mutta, though Even never actually sees who it is. At this point, he’s not sure he cares anymore. Instead he sips his beer and feels the amalgamations of noises and bodies and the energy swell within him; rising and pulling like a tide.

It’s only after the apartment feels like it's pushing full capacity that Even chooses to escape to the balcony where it’s blissfully quieter, though the music seeps through the seams of the glass. He’s pleasantly drunk and only swaying to the song a little, feeling the brisk breeze pass through and revive him. He pulls out a joint and lights it, closing his eyes and just breathing in cold air.

“Mind if I partake?” a voice arrives from his shoulder. Even turns to face a guy whom he vaguely recognises. He thinks he’s seen him before around when Jonas used to live with the boys, or perhaps at another one of Chris’s parties last year - but wait. The guy he’s thinking of had blonde hair, thick and curly, and his doppelganger decidedly does not. His buzzed hair is of indiscernible colour and mostly obscured by a hat sitting backwards on his head.

“Sure,” Even says, passing it along, and then watches the stranger inhale, the curve of his lips pulling down into the most obscene cupid’s bow he’s ever seen. Even readjusts, recognising now how attractive he is. He thinks of the list he made just hours earlier and tries to muster the confidence. Here we go, single-and-ready-to-mingle Even. This could be your moment, if you can manage to not fuck it up.

“Getting too hot in there?” he asks, frowning internally at himself: as far as opening lines go, it’s far from his best.

But the stranger just laughs loftily. “No. Yes. Maybe... Mostly I just wanted some air...It’s a little overwhelming sometimes.”

“Not a fan of parties?” Even guesses. “Not know many people here?”

“No, no, I’m a fan, and I know almost everyone here…”

They smoke in silence for a moment and Even gives himself a moment to stare: the wide line of his mouth, a blink-and-you-miss-it dimple, the straight curve of his nose. He definitely checks off the Cute As Fuck box on Even’s list.

“I’m Even, by the way,” he says, because he’s anything if not polite, and he’s at a loss at what else he can say to this beautiful stranger.

“I know,” is the response, and fuck, is that a smirk Even sees? “I told you, I know everyone at this party.”

“But I don’t,” Even says.

“No?” Raised eyebrows now. “Pity for you.”

Even realises he’s teasing, and God, he likes this so much - this banter, a little sassy, and playful, and so cute. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name, then?”

A flutter of eyelashes and the last of the joint sucked down to ashes. The ember burns out between them. “You don’t know?”

“If I do, I’m being really weird by asking for it again,” Even rolls his eyes and then laughs shyly. “I’m sorry, I was apparently raised with wolves and have no concept of manners. I’ll just fuck off now.”

“No,” the guy refutes and then coughs a little, his cheeks flushing. “No, sorry. I’m Isak.”

“Oh,” Even tries to think of where he’s heard that name before, and then it clicks. “Sana’s friend?”

“Did Sana say that I was her friend?”

“I’m not sure, maybe? I could have just inferred that. Are you not actually friends?”

“We’re lab partners in our molecular biology class. I’ve never gotten her to admit that we’re actually friends despite rampant evidence. And here she is going around telling people we are. Unbelievable.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean to insert myself in the middle of - that. Don’t quote me. You’ll have to take that up with her,” Even says. “I guess I do know everyone here, then.”

Isak’s gaze turns dark and sybaritic then, his lids pulled low like curtains trying to block out the remaining light; Even thinks he’s never seen eyelashes so long before. He looks up at Even for a moment, and enough time passes that Even bucks up the courage then. They’ve stood here staring at each other and sneaking glances for a while now. So fuck it.

“You want to get out of here?” Even affects this with a small shrug. “Seeing as we already know everyone else here.”

“I suppose that’s as good as any reason,” Isak laughs. It’s delicious. Even wishes he could eat it.

“Well, that and you’re really fucking cute,” Even wants to pat himself on the back for finally finding the moment to pull out a better line, finally. His patience is rewarded when he sees the effect it lands. Isak looks down at his feet for a moment to hide his grin.

  1. Must be Cute as Fuck (non-negotiable) - Check.



 

-

 

Ideally Even would have liked to check off more than just the first requirement off his list, but he decidedly does not care. It doesn’t actually matter, because Isak is like, ridiculously attractive, the kind of beauty caught between a lingering boyhood softness and a rugged masculinity: the definition of his jaw, those broad shoulders; his all-too-knowing smirk, a little roguish around the edges.

All last night Even marvelled at the sight of him, busy deciding the best way to take him apart once they made it to his place. Specifically it was something about his mouth that enticed Even. He liked those lips so much, and he wanted to see how much more he could like them when they begged. Fuck, he could care less what movies he was into.

For having sex with someone new - and a guy, no less - Even expected it to be at least substantially awkward and maybe a little disappointing. After all, he’s been the audience for many of the boy’s discussions over their own escapades, and Even knew most of the time they ended in less-than-desirable circumstances: clumsy-cross faded making out and second-base fumbling that the boys wished to gloss over by the next morning.

But it wasn’t like that. By the time they snuck out of the party, Even was hardly drunk, and Isak seemed of similar mind. The walk towards the tram would have been the perfect time to communicate his desire for a just a hookup (and therefore check off Rule 4 and 5 - right?), but he was caught in doubt at the last moment -  would defining the hook up before said hook up was to happen negate its possibility of occurring in the first place? What if it scares him off? And then Even realises, even worse: what if Isak isn’t into him at all? But then why leave a party with all of one’s friends to go off with a guy you hardly know? It was definitely for sex, Even decided.

This conclusion became further evident when Isak mentioned they should stop to pick ‘something’ up - and then Even _did_ successfully achieve consent when they decided they’d probably need at least some condoms (Hell yeah Rule 2!) It all felt like something out of a movie: these comically bashful strangers, in line to buy condoms, holding back nervous laughter when they paid. Isak bought him an ice cream after, his cheeks a little pink.

Even stood close to him on the tram - so close, in fact, that he could see all the freckles of Isak’s nose, some more faded than others. And then Isak looked up at him through those eyelashes - and licked his lips, and preened a little. Even should have kissed him then. But then Isak turned away when a group of people boarded, and the moment passed, and all remained tense and heated between them.

By the time they reached Even’s front door Isak was kissing him in the darkened hallway. They stood there for a second, the key not yet turned in the lock. Even pulled away and told him, “I’m new to this, you know. I can’t guarantee my level of expertise here. But you should know something.”

“What is that?”

Even took a precise pause, for effect. “You’re the cutest person I’ve seen in a long time.”

Isak just hummed happily, smiled and nudged his nose against Even’s cheek and kissed the side of his mouth. It was almost sweet. Like he’d never received such a compliment before.

Turns out, the sex was unbelievable. And why was it unbelievable? Because Even doesn’t really have anything else to compare it to except what he’s always known. Because Even didn’t know what to expect. Because it’s different, and new, and while at intervals slightly bumbling, there was something about being able to touch Isak it ways he hadn’t before, and be touched in ways he couldn’t predict.

But what was truly unbelievable was the luck of it being someone like Isak: he’s essentially the perfect rebound experience. Even’s never known a person whose desire and pleasure was so readily obvious for him; Sonja remained a closed book when it came to what she wanted in bed, like Even was supposed to read her mind. Sometimes their sex ended up kind of rote, as it is wont to do when you’ve been together for half a decade.

In comparison, the presence of inhibited pleasure was unrestrained and brimming; once the clothes came off and their bodies started to touch there was no going back. It was almost too easy for Even to figure out  how to make Isak come undone, and there he was writhing in Even’s new sheets with pearls of sweat gathered in his elbows and knees, stripes of come on his stomach, legs visibly shaken. No snarky smirk in sight.

“How’d you know to do that with your mouth?” he asked after, a little bereft. “I thought you said you were inexperienced.”

Even’s only answer was a laugh.

  1. Must be okay with flirting, kissing and mutually assured orgasms (consent!) - Check.



-

 

[October]

October announces it’s arrival with flurries of yellow-orange leaves, considerably frigid temperatures and the austere reminder winter is impending when the question of Even’s hook up is inevitably revisited. Naturally they’re all gathered in the living room, Even curled up in one of the corners with his duvet, attempting to copy some of Mikael’s notes from a lecture he fell asleep in. Elias insisted on watching Air Bud much to everyone else’s protest, but Even hadn’t really minded. He needed to study anyway.

He’s half listening to Mutta’s desire to capture the attention of a friend of Sana’s, a humanities student named Noora. Even wonders if this is the same Noora that Yousef liked once, but he can’t quite make himself bring it up; it doesn’t seem too relevant now anyhow.

“Maybe if I like - slip in that Judith Butler quote about Foucault, Noora would realise that I _do_ actually know a little about what I’m talking about,” Mutta surmises for maybe the second time. “On second thought, Butler is kind of blasé amongst certain groups. Maybe if I bring up Kimberle Crenshaw she’ll see - “

“And what about you, Even?” Adam says in the lull of his rhetoric. Mutta shoots him a look, to which he shrugs. “Sorry. But I think I speak for everyone when I say it doesn’t matter what the hell quote you use bro, none of us know who you’re talking about.”

“You guys gotta check the fuckin’ discourse, before the discourse checks you,” Mutta rolls his eyes disdainfully.

“For sure,” Elias agrees without removing his eyes from the screen. One hand is deep in a bag of chips, the other deftly guarding his possession of the remote.

Mutta just ogles him for a second, before turning his attention back to Even. “So, what about you then?”

“What about me?” Even asks.

“Have you gotten laid yet?” Elias answers shortly.

“Hooking up does not equate having sex,” Yousef corrects him pointedly. Mutta nods in agreement, his cheeks ballooned out from a rather sizable bong hit.

“Anyway, whatever definition you wanna use, it doesn’t matter if you haven’t had any luck yet,” Adam carries on. Even looks up from his notes then.

“Okay….” he says, and looks at all of them. “But I have hooked up already.”

Air Bud scores a final goal; his golden coat shining artificially as he leaps mid-air. The boys just stare at him in surprise.

“Wait, what?” Adam asks at the same time that Mutta just shakes his head and chuckles, with a stoned, “Brooooooo” in acknowledgement.

“Sorry,” Even frowns a little. “I didn’t realise I was required to tell you immediately as it happened.”

“No, obviously not _during_ ,” Mikael laughs, finally looking up from his phone, “Geesh. But after! Dude, we thought you were just...I don’t know, pacing yourself? Or like, taking your time? We were like, ‘wow, where’s Even?”

“I can take my time with things,” Even defends, but he knows it’s fruitless and Mikael isn’t saying it to be mean. Even’s just sensitive about his impulsive nature because it’s undeniable. “Anyway, I did hook up. At Chris’s party. Remember I left early? Oh wait, you don’t remember, because that was the night that Jonas’s friend Madhi brought that vaporiser from Amsterdam, and you all- ”

“That vaporiser was a Volcano and it was fucking epic,” Mutta points his finger, “Okay, okay, so it was at Berg’s rager, and we were totally melted - ”

“Melted,” Adam echoes.

“Who was it?”

This is Even’s chance to turn a little haughty. “Isak.”

Another round of silence follows and it serves to make Even uncomfortable. “What?”

“Isak - like, Jonas’s friend Isak?”

“I think there’s only one Isak in that friend group,” Even says by way of answering. That’s twice now Jonas has been brought up, and it’s not at _all_ annoying. “I hope you’re not being weird because it’s a guy.”

He says that partially because he’s actually nervous, but mostly because he knows they’ll immediately refute that and Even can feel less awkward about their reaction.

“Of course not,” Adam rolls his eyes. “That’s obviously okay.” The bong is nestled in his lap and he rests his chin on the lip of it, his face thoughtful. “It’s just - I didn’t realise Isak was into dudes.”

“No?” Even frowns, confused. Isak seemed pretty into dudes to him.

Mutta shrugs. “Jonas never said anything.”

“Well, does Jonas always talk about his friend’s sexual preferences to you guys?” Even asks petulantly. “Or who Isak hooks up with?”

“Bro, I know that dude from my sister, and I’m just gonna say, he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy,” Elias frowns.

“Shut up,” Mikael tells Elias and then throws a chip at him (much to Elias’ consternation about wasting food). He turns to Even. “Was it nice?”

“Very,” Even says, pointedly going back to his notes. “Far better than any of action you guys ever seem to get.”

“Bro!” A chorus of outcries erupt, and Even can’t bite back his smile now.

“Asshole,” Adam chuckles affably, passing the bong down the sofa to Elias. When Elias reaches over, Mutta uses this exact moment to whip the remote out of Elias’ lap and turn the channel with a triumphant whoop. The ending of Air Bud undetermined.

“Come _on_ ,” Elias moans when he sees what Mutta picks, “I don’t want to watch this cartoon shit right now.”

“Listen,” Mutta points his finger at him. “When they play Mulan on tv, you don’t ask questions, you just watch it.”

As many conversations do in their friend circle, the topic of Isak is bumped back to the back burner, and another conversation slots into place - now it’s Mutta defending the merits of Mulan and Elias arguing that he can’t handle another Disney movie this week. Even is content to sit in the harmony of their disagreement, and his own dalliances are forgotten in favour of smoking weed and laughing together, their Sunday dwindling into a mood so tranquil and comforting it softens the coming blow of the week ahead.

 

-

 

He doesn’t mention to the boys that the one time he and Isak slept together is actually the first time in a series of following hook ups. Even tells himself it’s not because of their reaction - which wasn't bad, just disappointing in it's lack of enthusiasm. It’s not that they thought Isak was a bad choice, per se, but rather just very surprising. Even’s nonplussed as to why there is any surprise at all: Isak is gorgeous, and whip smart, and funny.

Except there’s something more to it - not funny in a regular fashion; Isak is quick, sardonic, his dark humour appearing at the most opportune times, teasing Even mercilessly for some of the shit that comes out of his mouth. This is both entertaining and irrefutably deserving at times (though Even will never admit it). It’s always fun when they talk a bit of shit and then they start kissing and then they’re fucking and after it’s always a joint shared and a mad dash for the last tram home. They’re both students with course work and obligations and flatmates and various mundane lists of shit to do, so the windows of time are short. But the silver lining is that it leaves Even comfortably choosing when an orgasm might suit his schedule.

God, isn’t this fucking awesome? Here they are: two consenting adults, embarking on a no-strings-attached sexual relationship, without the drama or strain of an actual relationship. Even decides it’s very fucking awesome.

In fact, it becomes very apparent to Even that before now, he’s never had so much freedom and so many orgasms in so little time. His excitement at times is hard to contain, especially when he’s distracted by the memory of Isak’s mouth wrapped around his dick just hours before. It’s almost as if he’s discovering sex all over again for the first time and in a way - he is. Isak is a boy, with the aforementioned dick. Even’s in brand new terrain.

They’re two weeks short of Halloween weekend, when Even’s first invited over to Isak’s flat. On Wednesday they both finish around three and thus a window of time appears before them, whilst also miraculously leaving Isak with a empty apartment and a few ideas on how to use it.

The Kollektiv, Isak informed him prior to their arrival, is like an orphanage of discarded sitcom characters, but with more glitter, and less cocaine, in that little snarky way he jokes. _We’re all kind of weird but somehow it work_ s, he’d explained. There’s Noora the righteous activist cum humanities student, (which he knew already because of Mutta), and Linn, a highly touted online gamer who works in a library, and Eskild, head of household and self-proclaimed Guru (and bartender).

“They seem chill,” Even remarks, surveying a line of photos lining the hallway and leading into the lounge. “How long have you lived with them?”

“Oh, feels like forever,” Isak shrugs. “It’s the only place I’ve lived since I moved out.”

His apartment has a homey, lived-in feeling that makes Even feel almost immediately comfortable. Isak’s room is small, but everything within it seems to make perfect sense to Even. There’s a giant map on one wall with several flags pinned to it; upon closer inspection Even realises the tiny flat part have labels written neatly on their sides. In Latin.

“What do these mean?”

“Ugh. It’s nerdy,” Isak deflects at first. But Even isn’t having it. “Okay. They’re the origin species of plants which shaped some of the largest ecosystems we know in the world today. The pin represents where most scientists agree they originate based on their cellular make up, and the dots following is their likely route of travel, if it’s been proven traceable in science.”

Even finds himself impressed. “That’s cool. You’re into plants?”

“More like into plant cells,” Isak shrugs self-consciously. “I told you. Nerdy.”

“No, it’s cool,” Even decides. He narrows eyes playfully. “You’re like one of those people who think we all come from stardust, don’t you?”

Isak huffs out a trite little sigh. “Absolutely,” he says, doe eyed. Then he takes three strides to Even and presses their mouths together in a kiss. He tastes like coffee, and Even sucks on his bottom lip. Within fifteen minutes Isak is spread eagle on his unmade bed, all traces of shy pretences erased between them again. He finds that their bodies align in the most incredible way, his elbow slotted under Isak’s knee, fingers trailing down the soft skin just below his balls, making him whinge with impatience.

“Don’t make me beg this time,” Isak rolls his eyes, but it’s a bluff, Even’s learned. He bends Isak’s legs at the knee and pushes them farther apart, lying on his stomach.

“Are you sure? Because I wanted to try eating you out, and you might have to beg a little,” Even admits, and revels in the new found discovery that Isak is capable of blushing with his entire body.

 

-

 

Even [23:57] Listen, I know it’s late, but this is definitely not a Booty Call

Isak [00:03] Hm….I’m going to have to call bullshit

Even [00:04] Fuck, you’re right. You’re so hot. Wyd right now?

Isak [00:05 ] Lol

Isak [00:05] Cute

Isak [00:06] I’m watching a movie with my flatmates

Even [00:08] Now you’re going to have to tell me what movie

Isak [00:11] Why...so you can judge???

Even [00:12] wow...i’m offended. How pretentious do you think I am?

Isak [00:15] it’s 10 things i hate about you

Even [00:15] that’s a classic!! Which one of ur roommates picked this movie because deep down she has an undying love for young heath ledger?

Isak [00:17] ahaha...i guess that would be me. I picked it

 

-

 

“If you haven’t seen Moulin Rouge in its entirety then you haven’t lived life at all,” Even insists.

They’re tucked in a drafty corner of the science floor at the library, where Isak has been since nine this morning, and clearly set up residence. An apple core and a half eaten sandwich are amongst the debris strewn around a stack of thick textbooks which he effectively disappears behind every time he slouches over to jot something down.

“I fell _asleep,_ ” Isak hisses, peeking up over his study fortress, “Linn brought home some wine and I ended up totally wine-drunk, Even. You know what happens when you lie on a soft sofa when you’re wine drunk?”

Even remains unimpressed. Isak is wearing a very familiar fleece pullover underneath his hoodie. Even wonders if he should tell him - _you know that’s mine, right?_ Last week he must left it on Isak’s bedroom floor. Ultimately it doesn’t really matter. Isak probably doesn’t realise it’s not his - and Even thinks of the number of reasons as to why: because he woke up super early and grabbed whatever was available, or because it’s gray and they’re about the same size, etcetera, etcetera. But the turquoise lining on the cuffs and collar inform Even that it is in fact his.

“You owe it to me to watch this film,” Even insists for the twentieth time, eyebrows raised high up on his face. “It’s one thing if you’ve never seen it. But you’ve seen half of it and that is a travesty.”

“Shhhh - you’re going to get us reprimanded for being loud.”

“It’s Friday afternoon, Isak. No one is fucking here. Which reminds me. Why are we here?”

Isak appears again from behind the wall, face impassive except for the small twitch in his lip where he’s trying not to smile. He heaves a sigh. “Fine. You’re right. I should finish that movie. But first I have to finish these notes, and then we can leave.”

“You got it, pal,” Even mimes zipping his lips and looks at his watch. A second later he can’t resist adding, “It’s gonna be great. I swear. You’re going to finally understand why I like love stories so much.”

A funny expression passes Isak’s face at that, and he pauses, annoyance forgotten, before a beautiful smile materialises right in front of Even’s very eyes.

“I think I’m already starting to,” Isak says in the softest voice Even’s heard from him thus far, and the confusion he feels stays with him much longer after that.

  1. Must have a healthy appreciation for films/movies (at least, somewhat) - Check.



 

-

A week later, Noora comes home to find them sitting in the charmingly cramped Kollektiv kitchen, eating post-coital toasties and playing footsie under the table.

“Hey, Isak,” Noora says, and then stops and takes in the sight of Even sitting next to him. She is really pretty, and becomes even prettier when she’s a little flustered. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I didn’t realise you had someone over.”

“Er - this is my friend, Even,” Isak mumbles awkwardly, resolutely not looking at Even when he says it. “Actually, you probably already know each other, right?”

“Pretty much, given our friends. Noora, right?” Even smooths over with a wide smile. Noora tilts her head and gestures when she recognises him, her eyes lit up.

“Ah! Of course! We’ve definitely run into each other at parties - probably through Chris, right? And you’re in Jonas’s old room, aren’t you?” Noora says, “How is it? I see him all the time now, at Eva’s.”

“I am in the sole resident of the gold room,” Even concedes. “But they miss Jonas, of course. I have on good authority that he’s extremely cool to live with. I don’t think I can measure up.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine you actually have trouble keeping up in the cool department,” she raises an eyebrow. Even understands now why Mutta has a crush, just listening to Noora talk is enchanting - and it’s nice, this kind of banter. Harmless. Isak is quiet between them, taking it in. His feet have left Even’s ankles alone now.

“Thanks. Though I do try very hard,”  Even waves off, aiming for bashful.

“Anyway,” Isak intercepts finally. He’s finished his toasty. “We’ve got many things to accomplish, the first of those being a Fifa tournament that you promised me. Apparently Even thinks he’s some kind of Fifa master. Though I highly doubt it.”

Noora only rolls her eyes goodnaturedly. “Well, you both enjoy that,” and if her look is a little too knowing as Isak drags Even to his bedroom again, Even thinks nothing of it.

-

 

[November]

They fuck enough that Even is passing the intersection of semi-consistent hookup sex to the lane of bonafide sex-buddy, and it’s fucking awesome. He’s never been with someone so willing - and open about experimenting as Isak. Even can figure out what he likes (hair pulling while he’s sucking Isak’s dick is a yes, having sex in the shower is mostly a no because he’s too damn tall and his knees won’t bend the way he likes. They’ve yet to try blindfolds, but it’s on a list somewhere, Even’s sure.)

What drives him over the edge is watching Isak lose control because of what _Even’s_ doing to him. It’s the kind of jerk-off material he could never had dreamed up prior to this. He’s learning quickly what Isak likes, and he’ll be the first one to admit it - milking Isak’s preferences from him is possibly one of his new favourite pastimes. He’s never bore witness to an O face such as Isak’s, expression contorting with sensitivity to everything he’s feeling as it builds and builds until Isak can’t hold back anymore and _that_ \- watching him come undone like that - is beyond the articulation of words.

What’s even better is Isak's plain excitement by anything that gives Even pleasure, and when it comes his turn to choose something new, he has a tendency to be much more reserved in terms of kinky; mostly he likes whatever they’re doing so long as Even teases him along the way, even when he says he doesn’t want to beg. He’s lying; Isak likes to beg. It’s part of the game between them.

And Isak: Isak won’t admit it but he’s surprisingly into the vanilla sex Even used to have with Sonja all the time, of all things - missionary style where there’s plenty of eye-contact and open mouthed kisses and not just the hard slap of skin-on-skin. Once Even pressed both of Isak’s hands above his head while he teased his entrance with his dick, using the leverage to inch in slowly and swallowing every single moan escaping Isak’s alluring mouth - well. It never quite feels all that vanilla. Even certainly is not complaining about it.

He’s not really worried about it becoming too romantic either - after all, Isak told Noora that they’re _friends_ , and Even believes him. They get along. They’re friendly. And they’re having sex, and hanging out, and neither seem like they want to mess it up with talking about what it all means. It’s just sex. Just friends who are having sex. That totally aligns with Even’s list.

“When did you first know you liked boys?” Isak asks him one night after a particularly enduring round of orgasms. They’re sitting on Even’s windowsill, sharing a joint and enjoying the dark sky absent of any clouds. It’s just the stars, and the bitter November breeze, and them.

“Not sure,” Even shrugs. “Maybe when I was fifteen? It was kind the same time that I started liking girls, too. I just ended up dating a girl for a really long time.”

“And did you like, forget or something?”

“No, no,” Even shakes his head. “You can’t really forget about something like that, you know?”

His identity as a panesexual guy is new to him. It’s strange to feel ownership of himself again. Once he discovered he liked boys too, it was conveniently forgotten and overlooked. Even understands why, though now in hindsight he resents it too. Given what happened with Mikael when they were at school and their friendship he tried his best to forget; to chalk it up to his bipolar. For the sake of his relationship with Sonja he let it slip slowly into the background.  And now a part of him which was once hidden is suddenly, brilliantly awake, and present within him.

“Yeah,” Isak is quiet then, his face withdrawn. When Even blinks the expression is replaced by something lighter, a small smile curling around his lips. “Listen, I’ve got to go soon. But I think we can make use of the next twenty minutes before I’ve got to catch the last tram.”

Even raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re on.”

  1. Must be able to be friendly, and to end it at any time (ideally) - Check.



 

-

 

Even [00:31] u didn’t tell me you had an insta

Even [00:35] now i realise you used to have longer hair and THIS is why i didn’t recognise you the first time…

Even [00:37] it was so lush...how could i ever forget a face like this? I’m actually embarrassed

Even [00:41] u definitely get a blow job on me for all this jerk-off material i’m getting right now

Even [00:57] [Image attached]

Isak [8:15] jesus christ, what a way to wake up. I didn’t realise my hair was such a trigger for you

Even [9:36] Me fucking either. But i thoroughly enjoyed myself

Even [9:37] u could even say...i have a hair-trigger

Isak [10:08] Even for the love of god

Isak [14:02] i’d consider growing it out again if u thought it’d look good

Even [14:44] haaaaa, don’t worry abt it. I just didn’t realise the power of the CURL on you.

Even [14:45] On second thought, better keep it tame. I might lose my shit otherwise

 

-

 

By the time Friday rolls around, Even has never been more ready for a party. If it weren’t for his ebulant spirits he’d be a little more insecure about the fact that it’s at Jonas and Eva’s apartment, and the boys have been raving about how awesome it’s going to be, and how cool Jonas is, and how much Even and Jonas are going to totally bond because they’re both really cool dudes. The same few adjectives are thrown around a lot for emphasis.

He’s styled his hair in a modern jelly roll, taking care to smooth over any wisps that threaten to droop on his forehead.

“Well, don’t you look nice,” Mikael’s first comment is predictably about his hair, which is always somewhat ironic to Even, given the state of Mikael’s hair is dearly sacred to him.He’s holding a bottle of cheap sect, which he passes to Even along with a cup. Then he helps himself to Even’s collection of colognes lined up on Even’s dresser.

“Well, it’s a party isn’t it? When else am I going to make good on all those hours I lost that summer I was addicted to youtube hair tutorials?” Even asks, somewhat rhetorically. He stands up, finding his wool jumper and sliding his coat over his arm.

“The boys have left to get beer so it’s just us,” Mikael explains.

“Are you drinking?” Even asks.

Mikael shakes his head. “No, I went to Mosque earlier with my parents, and I probably should just chill tonight.”

“Sure,” Even nods, “I’m just gonna get my shit together and we can go.”

They’re walking through a modest tread of snow; it reminds Even that December is just around the corner; these last few weeks have undeniably stunk of winter. Even sips from his bottle every so often, humming a little under his breath.

“How’s your hookup list going?” Mikael asks, a little out of the blue. His hair is long enough to tuck into his coat. “Feeling the potential tonight?”

“At a home party? It’s like everyone we already know. So define ‘potential’,” Even scoffs jokingly, “But yeah, it’s going. You’re been passionately pursuing this endeavour on my behalf, but it’s time to let me spread my wings here. I’m a butterfly now!”

“Yes, of course you are,” he nudges Even with his shoulder, and the contact is so warm that Even remembers suddenly that he has arms at all. “I know you’re doing your own shit. But I just know you dude, and I know the Sonja thing kinda sucked, and just...if you ever wanna talk, we can talk. You’re my best friend, and the boys, we - we all like...have different schedules and no one ever is home at the same time. But we always make a point to hang out.”

Mikael’s point is astute, and well-said. Even wonders about it for a minute or two. Has he been especially secretive, or just busy? “You’re right. I just have been trying to keep up with everything at university and manage my sleep and my meds and sometimes after all that my head feels so full.”

Then, “And I’ve been hooking up with Isak.”

“Still?” surprise colours Mikael’s voice, and Even frowns a little. “Oh. Cool.”

“It is cool,” Even agrees, taking a long pull off the bottle and wiping his mouth.

“But is he, like - ” Mikael gestures.

“He hasn’t brought it up,” Even hums. “We mostly smoke, and have sex, and eat. It’s nice. Sometimes we listen to music. I had to show him some Nas before he tried to claim he liked 90’s hip hop.”

“Of course you did,” a little laugh from Even’s right. Then Mikael nudges him again, gentler. “Well. Sorry. It’s just. I’ve just never considered any of this. So I gotta ask dude. What’s it like? Sex with Isak?”

Even takes a deep breath, his final moment to shine and answer the question he wanted them to ask the first time. “ _Incredible_.”

 

-

 

Even finishes his bottle of sect and spends half an hour wrapped up in a conversation between a flamboyantly dressed Chris Berg and her friend Vilde, who was double fisting two bottles of wine when she hugged Even and spilled a little on his sleeve. Chris rolled a joint and they caught up on the latest Westworld episode. Chris is convinced it was awesome but didn’t make any sense; Even isn’t far behind her but didn’t want to admit it just yet.

Three hours later he joins the boys for an obligatory fourth beer cheers, and the night feels patented in a warm fuzzy glow, everyone harmonious and shimmering together. Across the room he sees Isak standing next to Jonas, his hair hidden underneath a backwards hat, smaller and less stiff than a snapback. His dark green hoodie is half zipped to reveal a flannel underneath that - looks really fucking familiar. Even recognises it as his. But when did he even lose that?

At some point Isak must feel Even’s gaze boring into him, because he catches his eye and doesn’t blink. For a moment all the other noises fade out, and Even just hears his own blood in his ears as he stares at Isak, through the slight haze of smoke, and watches as his mouth breaks into the slow easy curl of a wide smile.

God. Even can actually see the gap in his teeth from here and - fuck. He leaves Mutta to entertain Eva and Noora - which he should have done anyway, dammit Even - to wade through people dancing and huddling in groups to reach Isak.

“Hey, man,” it’s Jonas who reaches up to give him a high five, intercepting Even’s view of Isak. He high fives and pulls him for a side hug. “Finally, I feel like years have passed since all the boys have gotten together and we’ve partied like this, dude! Seriously, probably since September. It’s been ages. Everytime I’m over with the boys you’re not there and I’m like, shit, man!”

“Shit, man,” Even echoes, “Yeah, but you know the boys, we’re always home in shifts it seems. With uni…”

“Yeah, no, it’s the same for me. We’re all overloaded with shit tons of work and yet we still find time to party,” he laughs.

“Have you missed your golden door?” Even asks. “Or the overload of sitcoms and dog movies always on?”

“To the golden fucking door,” Jonas chugs some of his beer and nods. “Fuck yeah I have. Movie night was like the wildest night of the week. I never fuckin’ knew who was gonna watch what. Once we watched the Harry Potter movies out of order and we thought it was about time travel at first. And I miss that tv. The one I have now lags.”

“Which actually means he’s sad I can kick his ass at Fifa,” Isak says, his tone light and ebullient. He’s wearing the most amusing shit-eating grin. “He says it’s his tv but I know the truth. It doesn’t lag.  You’re just in denial that your skill was the result of too much practice and not of natural talent.”

“Eva’s not exactly the most enthusiastic second player,” Jonas defends, and then he notices someone behind Even. “Fuck, I think she just tried to wave me down and fell over - I hope no one’s complained about the noise again.”

And then it’s just Even and Isak.

“Have you been enjoying yourself?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Very much,” Isak plays coy, looking down at his hands and then back up again. “It’s better now that you’re here.”

Isak’s got a devilish grin and a full bottle of wine. They disappear into the nearly empty galley kitchen, where the music echoes against the hard tile and the window is wide open despite the cold. Every time Even drinks Isak drinks after, and neither of them break eye contact.

Soon the night spirals into a slippery, drunken mess, but Even wouldn’t have it any other way: leaning on this window sill, just their bodies and the bitter wind to keep them company, ankles overlapping: Isak’s chin so close to his shoulder he can smell his wine-breath.

“Here,” Even holds a joint between them. Isak bounces on the balls of his feet and claps with genuine glee. It’s adorable. He lights it, snuggling back into his sweater against the breeze and feels Isak lean just ever so slightly closer to him. Even takes a big hit and then feeds it to him, smoke curling around the gaps between their lips.

Time doesn’t seem to pass, although the signs are there: the bottle they drink soon empties, the music changes, the laughter from down the hall ebbs and flows. Even adores this heady, hedonistic mixture of sights and smells and sounds. An exhilarant moment. Intoxicating in the same way the defined line of Isak’s jaw is intoxicating to watch as it flexes every time he closes his mouth.

Both of them are cross-faded, Even more drunk and loose lipped than he’s been in a long time, his liquid courage making him affectionate and Isak in return indulges his whims with giggles and flirtatious banter. Isak keeps kissing the side of his face, his cheeks deliriously pink; almost glowing.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he admits with a little bit of awe, and Even just presses his fingers into his sides to make him squeal. Party, what party? It’s been forever since he’s felt this - wearing Isak’s attention like a warm coat.

“Ditto,” Even agrees, bobbing his head along when the song changes.

“Thanks,” Isak smiles this funny little smile, kissing his cheek with a little  _pop!_ It’s kind of sweet.

Even pulls his hat off, running his hands through his hair. It feels amazing, and longer than usual, which Even says.

“Yeah, well,” Isak’s  a bit sheepish now. He frowns like a child caught out. “Maybe I wanna grow it out.”

“Oooh,” Even teases, “Maybe you do, huh?”

“Yeah,” he nods, and presses another one of these lovely kisses against Even’s mouth. Even’ sitting on the window sill with Isak standing in between his legs. The house is so full at this point that no one really seems to notice where one body starts and the next one ends, all pressed together in the living room and kitchen and hallway like drunk sardines, lights turned low to hide the slips and spills.

“God,” Even groans, pulling away when the kiss becomes heated. He leans his nose against Isak’s. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Isak closes his eyes for a moment longer. “Thanks.”

“You know what I want to do?” Even murmurs, drunker and more exhausted than before. He moves closer until his lips are pressing up against Isak’s ear. “I want to take you apart and make you forget your name.”

Even’s granted the pleasure of watching Isak digest this with a heavy swallow. He touches the sides of Even’s hair, where it’s not as gelled, and smoothes back the little wisps that have fallen from the jelly roll. He’s uncharacteristically gentle now, his eyes narrow with lust and joy, the tops of his cheeks flushed the most heavenly pink.

“I’d let you,” Isak smiles, just a tad wobbly. He looks up at Even. “You’re incredibly attractive, you know? Wow, that hair. You could give Cry Baby a run for his money.”

Even bursts out in laughter. Fuck. Is he for real? _Cry Baby?_

“God, I love you for that,” Even gushes in a rush, and the exact words which emit from his mouth hardly register, because his brain just keeps screaming  _who the fuck makes a Cry Baby reference in 2018?_ and  _that’s the exact look I was fucking going for!_ A prolonged pause follows, and Even looks up to find Isak looking at him with impossibly big eyes, his smile slack and tender, too tender.

He sways a little, but nonetheless, reaches up to cup Even’s cheek, and Even’s heart is pumping so loud, so loud, and there’s a tight feeling in his chest when Isak murmurs, “Love you, too.”

Time stretches on for about four seconds before Even’s mouth can move, but it’s too long already, because at that very moment Mikael appears, sparing their position with a fleeting consideration before directly addressing Even.

“Elias threw up in a vase,” he informs Even matter-of-fact. He looks humoured but also supremely unimpressed with the antics surrounding him. “We should take him home before he ruins the carpet. And honestly I think I saw Adam asleep in the hall closet, so we should probably bring him too.”

“Right,” Even acquiesces, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how it quivers. All of sudden he feels overwhelmingly drunk. He stands up from the window, forcing Isak to take a step back. “Well, that’s that then.”

“That’s that,” it’s Isak’s soft little echo that Even hears. It makes his gut clench.

“Hey, Isak,” Mikael waves, smiling a little. “Wish we could stay. But our time has come. See you next time, right?”

“Of course,” Isak’s smile is so much more reserved than Even’s grown used to, it startles him. How bright his mouth just was. How lovely, and now. Even doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his feet or his gaze.

“I’ll see you soon,” is all Even’s able to muster, and follows Mikael out into the living room, where shoulders and elbows press in from every angle. Despite Even towering over almost everyone here, he’s never felt so small before, and he didn’t look back at Isak when he left, and he doesn’t know why. He just doesn’t know why he didn’t.

 

-

 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for a lovely response. I will admit I was a bit hesitant to post given it's a different writing style than my usual, and the pacing of this story always makes me nervous it's not fluid enough. But every single one of you are so sweet and encouraging and clearly love Isak and Even as much as I do. So here we are.
> 
> *This chapter was not beta'd by anyone but me - forgive me. Also, if I screw up any of the Norwegian holiday traditions even in the minute detail, feel free to let me know in the comments below & I'll do my best to fix it!
> 
> I made a playlist for this story now. You can listen [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/margarete.travers/playlist/3dT33Su51DeUDHYv1F5gu2)!
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to @heidi_alterlove. You are the most gracious star I happen to know.

-

The right thing to do is communicate: at least, this is what he tells his therapist.

Even knows the right thing to do isn’t always the easiest option, and the right thing is also not really the most available option either, and sometimes Even thinks he learns nothing from therapy, because instead of coming to terms with what transpired, he decides that it’s better to bury it deep down and leave it there.

So after Jonas’ and Eva’s party that weekend, Even pushes all this confusion into the farthest corner of his mind and tries to forget about it. December is tantamount to arrival, flush with expectations and deadlines, and he’s never been more swamped with coursework.

It also means that he’ll likely see Isak almost every day that week in the library, back curled over his desk as he writes his essays. At first he thinks he’s going to have to bring it up immediately, but on Monday Isak just smiles at him, moves his stuff to the other side so Even can sit in his usual seat. An hour or two in they go get coffee. Isak, already hyped on caffeine and sleep deprivation, just idly fidgets next to him, rambling about issues deciphering his lab notes from October. Even kisses him between the empty, dusty stacks once they return to the library. And it just doesn’t come up after that.

 

-

 

[December]

That Wednesday, they go to Even’s instead of the Kollektiv, because for the first time in three months Even knows the flat is guaranteed to be empty. Mutta and Mikael are in evening seminars, and Elias texted them in the group chat to say he had cousins visiting and would be staying at his parent’s house. On the way they grab kebabs and practically inhale them. Even’s eyes are sore and yet he is curiously awake in the frigid air. His breath leaves his body in visible clouds, like dirty gusts, and he hates it: this nearly pitch-black darkness at barely past four in the afternoon.

Isak is quiet and Even too a little sombre, to be expected after spending seven hours side-by-side tucked away in the back corner of the science floor (and how had Even somehow missed that he's reserved his library study time for Isak nearly every single day for - maybe since Halloween? Christ. When did _this_ happen?); the snow that started falling last week hasn’t faltered since. All of a sudden there are Christmas decorations adorning shop windows and the coffee drinks are holiday themed and Even - Even’s not sure why winter feels so abruptly present. He’s been distracted.

Now Oslo is a lugubrious blanket of white and grey, and Even wishes he found it more enchanting than he does suffocating. All of the city falls under a muted quietude now, and the thoughts in Even’s head are starkly loud in comparison.

Isak throws his book bag down and flops onto Even’s bed with a weary sigh. Since it’s been colder he’s been wearing thick scarves which obscure his chin and knitted beanies, dark indigo and grey, so irregular in its stitch pattern that Even always imagines little gusts of wind must sneak past.

“You’ve got a staring problem, you know,” Isak remarks with raised eyebrows. He’s playing condescending, looking over at Even as if he’s got glasses perched on the end of his nose. All his thoughts melt away: it’s hard not to think about all this impending shit, when they’re both silent and together for so long in one day.

“Well... you’ve got a problem too,” Even retorts. His comebacks have been so lacking these last few days.

“Oh really,” Isak just stares at him, blank faced. “What problem is that?”

“Yeah, well, it’s a really serious problem,” Even smiles, returning Isak’s same condescending look. “You’re going to need immediate treatment.”

Isak just rolls his eyes but the precursors of a smirk appear; his face is one giant tell sometimes, it makes Even want to laugh. Good to know he’s not the one with the worse poker face around.

“I cannot seek treatment if I do not have a diagnosis.”

“True,” Even concedes, and then drops the charade. “Your diagnosis is that you’re too fucking pretty, Isak, and it’s the direct cause of my staring problem.”

Isak smiles dazedly, eyes closing in a numb sort of happiness. He leans back on his hands and looks up at him. “E _ven_ ,” he whines, mustering an eye roll. “Come give me my treatment then.”

“Treatment?” Even plays the fool so convincingly, it’s downright ironic. “Oh, right. ‘Treatment’... _Well_.”

With a few strides he crosses his room and comes to stand between Isak’s legs, peering down his nose at him. He doesn’t even have to lie: Isak really _is_ pretty, especially beneath Even wrapped up in blue, his brow line somehow delicate and vigorously drastic simultaneously. The arrangement of Isak’s imperfect and yet perfectly proportionate face is startlingly reminiscent of a painting Even’s seen in a museum. His body, boyishly smooth and strong, comparable only to a statue carved from marble.

Okay, enough thinking now. He’s poetizing, for God's sake.

“You should take this off,” Even murmurs, pulling on his scarf whilst planting one knee on the bed. He looms over Isak, now reclining back on his elbows. Isak is pliant through all of this, as he pulls off his wool jumper, and then the borrowed old maroon flannel. Even runs his hands down the planes of his body, his biceps, along the line of his clavicle, his nipples. Goosebumps follow where his hands go.

“Even,” Isak murmurs. He sits up further now. “Kiss?”

He obliges, of course he does. How can he resist, when Isak tilts his head up just so, when his body is always asking for Even’s permission? They kiss in the dark shadows of his room, outlined simply by a golden glow of the bedside lamp. When Even pulls away, he brings Isak forward, so he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, and then he lowers himself to his knees.

“Look behind me,” Even says. Isak does, and his eyes widen with what he sees.

“The mirror,” he breathes.

“Mmhmm,” Even’s already sliding his track bottoms down; the thermal underwear after that. Despite the headiness of the moment, a part of him wants to laugh at Isak’s assiduity. Even's never been so diligent about anything in his life. Isak carefully lifts his bum to assist him and then settles again, his fingers coming down to caress the sides of Even’s face, until he reaches the centre of his mouth and presses against his bottom lip.

Even opens his mouth and lets Isak’s fingers bear down upon his tongue; Even closes his lips and sucks. Isak only stares with his mouth agape, entranced by Even’s ministrations. Which is exactly his intention. Who needs speech, when you can make use of your mouth in other ways.

“I want you to watch yourself,” Even tells him, Isak’s wet fingers on his cheeks. “I want you to fuck my face and I want you to watch yourself do it.”

“Oh my God,” Isak groans, and his dick twitches as if in response.

Funnily enough, while Isak is overcome by the ferocity of his own orgasm, Even too is left stunned by the intensity of it. It feels like being pulled apart.

 

-

 

Well, everything returns completely to how it was before. Except Even knows it’s not at all how it was.

He often defers to the strictest of rational voices in his head to coach him back from the brink of insanity: they were drunk, and tongue tied from the weed, and caught up in the moment. Even certainly didn’t mean it like that - he was just excited to be around someone who can throw out a decent film reference every so often. It’s not that everything is ruined: it’s just that the word love being thrown around is sudden and out of context. Even and Isak have been hooking up and it's been awesome and uncomplicated and totally fine.

Right?

Right.

Except - well. Four months _is_ a pretty long time to call someone a ‘hook up’.

But Isak is his friend as well. No point denying it: he loves living with the boys now, but there are so many man-piles and bong rips Even can handle before he wants to be out of the flat, and when he’s out of the flat he ends up - well - hanging out with Isak. Sometimes they study, other times they play video games, get food, and chill. Sometimes they’re naked. Most of the time they're naked.

And that’s how they’re not _just_ friends. Because they also have sex - really fucking nice sex too, and Even guesses Isak also could be called his fuck buddy. They _do_ fuck around a lot. But they’re also pretty flirty, and kiss a lot, every so often in public, and -

These are the kind of thought cycles Even tries to push to the fringes of his consciousness. He’s mostly successful - university is honestly very consuming, what with last minute studying and perfecting his portfolio submissions - so what if he's avoiding the issue at hand? He tells himself it’s a stressful part of the term and once they break for Christmas he can revisit all of it.

They’re riding the tram one evening - back to Kollektiv, where Isak has promised him leftovers and a shower blow job - and there is so much more snow on the ground, and there are these deep, purple rings underneath Isak’s eyes now, and he keeps pulling Even’s hand in his lap to play with his fingers. Even’s happy to hunker down in his seat and zone out for the ride, when -

“What are you doing for the break?”

“Oh,” Even falters. He hadn’t really thought about it and he says as much. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Probably the usual: Mum outdoes herself every year with all the decor and getting a tree, Dad overcompensates with too many cookies. My cousins will come from Bergen. You know, all that.”

“Cool,” Isak nods, and then he bites his lip in the way he does when he has more to say.

“Why? What about you?”

“Oh - nothing. Well, actually. We have a couple Kollektiv traditions, one where we go for this Christmas market where they light up all the trees and sing carols, which we did last weekend. And then on the twenty-third Linn makes a ton of Gløgg and one of us picks a watch a film and we open some presents.”

Even can picture it. For some reason he imagines Isak outfitted in an adorable reindeer headband. “That sounds fun. Very festive.”

“Yeah, it is,” Isak agrees, pressing upon each of Even’s fingers with the pads of his own. “Are you going to be staying at the flat?”

“It’s the first year without my ex, so I guess I’ll go stay at my parent’s house for most of it. They’re always bugging me to come over and spend time with them, you know? I bet yours are doing the same now that it’s nearing holidays.”

Isak pauses his ministrations, “Well, no, not really,” he shrugs, “But - that’s why -  we do our own Christmas traditions.”

Even is surprised, and a little awkward. “Oh. Sorry. Well…”

“No worries,” Isak just brushes it off. “But anyway, I was just thinking. If you weren’t - like, too busy...I could probably convince Eskild this year we watch Love Actually.”

And now Even understands where this is going. Just a couple of hours ago he had talked Isak’s ear off about the merits of Love Actually as both the greatest ensemble cast film as well as one of the best romantic Christmas movies ever made. Suddenly the picture all comes together: Isak, who apparently doesn’t really spend Christmas with his own family, who never, now that Even thinks about it, really mentions his parents, is asking Even if he’d like to partake in the one holiday tradition he has. And Even, Even is a fucking idiot who sits there without the slightest idea what to do.

“I’ll…,” he starts, and Isak is staring straight ahead, his face carefully blank. “I’ll have to see. My family might...I’m not sure if we have plans or not. But it sounds nice.”

“Sure. Of course, you probably will have plans,” he agrees hurriedly. “It’s not a problem at all.”

For a moment the quiet is a little stifling; they have four stops left. Even nudges Isak’s side and goes, “So what movie does Eskild usually make you watch?”

“Oh, God,” Isak grins, and relief saturates both of them, Even can feel it. He shakes his head, “Sometimes we watch The Nightmare Before Christmas. Or Elf, Linn’s favourite is Elf. I like it too. Noora is sucker for the classics, like It’s a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street.”

“Those are all pretty good ones,” Even agrees. He remembers the first time he met Eskild, exuberant, brash and daliesque in demeanour and self expression; demanding both the attention and gracious affirmation of everyone around him. He had certainly fulfilled the expectations Isak set; so much so that Even is willing to bet Eskild knows every single word to _This is Halloween_ and _What’s This?_ and sings along. “And you?”

“Me?” Isak repeats. He considers it. “I guess, I like...How the Grinch Stole Christmas.”

“Really?”

“Jonas says it’s a call for anti-consumerism and a critique of the commercialisation of the holiday, and after hearing him go on and on about it, I have to agree,” Isak says. “And when I say I like the Grinch, I mean the cartoon one.”

“Fair enough,” Even agrees, a little impressed with his analysis. “Can you guess my favourite? Besides Love Actually.”

“Hmmmm,” Isak looks at him with a scrupulous gaze, “The Muppet Christmas Carol.”

“Ha!” Even laughs, “That’s the boys’ favourite, oh my God, that’s so funny you said that. No. Guess again.”

“Home Alone?”

“Closer! But think more like Love Actually,” Even hints. It’s their stop. He pulls Isak up with him.

“I don’t know. The Holiday?” Isak guesses, and Even smiles, elation tickling him.

“You’re so correct, you get a kiss,” Even says, and Isak doesn’t need to be told twice, his mouth already tilted up to receive his prize.

 

-

 

So they haven’t brought up the _Incident_ , as Even’s come to term it in his head, and besides the amount of school shit Even has to finish before break starts, everything feels okay - fine. Normal.

Except - except, it’s really hard to miss all these little things, Even is realising, now that his eyes are properly open. Like the increasing frequency in which Isak protests Even going back to his own flat after they fuck around - and Even, Even finds himself caught in the moment and giving in every time, because he’s always been a cuddler at heart and having Isak curled against him is a specific kind of delight. Why ruin the moment? It’s fucking nice to snuggle up, and it’s cold as hell to journey back to Tøyen so late at night.

Sitting on Isak's designated bathroom shelf is the toothbrush he bought for Even, an act Even originally chalked up to just another one of his fastidious commitments to detail. A convenience - Isak is nothing if not conscientious. Yet now he ponders if the toothbrush is yet another fucking metaphor. There it sits proclaiming innocence when Even knows it is anything but: do any of the flings Eskild brings home get toothbrushes as well? Or Linn or Noora’s? Even has no evidence for the latter, but he’s going to assume that no, they do not.

There's the question of Isak borrowing and wearing Even’s clothes out in public like a covert claim only Even will understand; or his hugs lingering a little longer when they part before class, his texts more sentimental; his gaze seemingly always following Even’s movements wherever he goes, as if to commit to a memory; the way his _entire_ fucking face lights up specifically when Even’s around - it’s all adding up.

Where’s the bottom line? He’s not even sure he can see the line anymore. If he weren’t enjoying Isak’s company, and their consistent dedication to bringing each other off whenever they have the privacy and the option, Even would have no distractions from the impending freak out. The orgasms weaken his resolve, he tells himself. Isak’s cute little gap-toothed smile and his colour coded notes would be adorable to anyone who had a heart and at least one working eye. He can ignore the rational voice in his head telling him this will time together won't last forever, that it will have to end soon, and it will hurt. Even already knows it will hurt. 

And then, one night, just before term is set to end - Isak finally sets his biodiversity textbook aside, absentmindedly rummaging around for a thicker pair of socks, when he tells Even that he officially came out to the Kollektiv, and Even feels something sink in the pit of his gut.

He says this so carefully, like he’s studied his nonchalance prior. His back is to Even, and he’s not sure whose benefit it is for.

“I hadn’t realised you…” Even starts, and then knows he doesn’t want to finish that sentence. He tries to efface the distress welling up inside. “That’s amazing, Isak. I’m so happy for you. You should be proud of yourself, you know that, right?”

Isak turns around now, and he looks relieved. “Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, as if it doesn’t really matter. But it does. It so clearly does. “I mean...they already all knew anyway, and have a for a while, so it was kind of silly. It’s just...for me to say it....”

“It makes all the difference,” he finds himself murmuring. This Even can relate to. Claiming yourself, who you are, is different. And freeing, even when terrifying.  

“Yeah,” Isak says, and then he comes to sit across from Even with his knees folded up underneath him. “Being with you, these last few months...it’s really, really helped. I just wanted to say thank you. For taking a chance on me.”

For the first time, truly, Even realises the severity of his actions; how wrong everything about this situation is, how badly he’s misunderstood who Isak is. The worst part is he’s not sure he ever truly took the time to ask him - about anything of true substance, or bother to understand how he might have felt about them hooking up. Honestly Even's not sure he was ever really thinking about anything but getting laid. All he wanted to do at first was learn how to suck cock. And if Isak knew - truly knew how Even thought of them up until a few weeks ago, he’d know in an instance how wrong he would be to thank him. God, Even feels sick again. Sick and so fucking tender for this lovely creature sitting in front of him, earnest and shy as he confesses what must have been so difficult to confess.

His mind keeps hinging on the phrase _being with you_ , and he immediately goes back to the night of the Incident. He clears his throat and leans over and kisses Isak’s forehead. Even knows this can’t go on for much longer: it’s already gone too deep. He knows there will be a day soon in the future where he’ll have to explain to Isak that he just got out of a relationship and he was never looking for a new one in the first place, and he’ll have to cut Isak loose, and it breaks his fucking heart. It really does.

But now, wrapped up in each other, he doesn’t say any of this. Instead he swallows back the ache residing in his throat and holds Isak very close. He cups his cheek and brushes his thumb against the tender skin underneath his eye, watching as Isak’s eyes flutter closed. His hand moves around to grip the nape of his neck, and their mouths align like a constellation.

“It’s late,” Even whispers against his lips.

Isak nods. “Will you stay?”

Even can’t refuse him, not after what’s just been said. They go to the toilet to brush their teeth and wash up, listening to the muffled sounds of Linn and Eskild watching something on television. Isak goes to bid them good night and then they’re back in his room, with the lights turned off. It reminds him of the routines he and Sonja used to have. Fuck, now that he thinks of it, it’s all very domestic, isn’t it? 

All that is heavy lies within Even, sinking him into the mattress. He feels a thousand years old. He pushes back against the guilt and pulls Isak close to him, tucking his chin on top of the crown of his head. His hair is really starting to grow out now, and that should have been another little sign, Even thinks.

“You told me something so important today. And I want to return the favour. I don’t usually like to talk about this,” Even finds himself speaking out into the dark. “Because it's hard as shit and ontop of that I never know how it’s going to be received. But you should probably know. I'm bipolar.”

Isak presses his lips firmly to the side of Even’s neck. Then he says, “I already knew.”

Surprised washes through him. “You did?”

In the shadow he can just barely make out Isak nodding. “Yeah. One time I was with Jonas at the flat, and Mikael was really worried, because you had been depressed for a while. I don’t really remember what the circumstances were, but he was down about it and Jonas got him talking, and then he kind of just...told us.”

“Oh,” Even isn't sure what to say. There are many thought in his head, all firing away at once.

“Not like, in detail or anything,” Isak hurries along, misreading Even’s silence. “Anyway, sorry. I know I should have told you I knew already but I wasn't sure how to bring it up, and I didn't really know what to say. I know it’s really personal.”

Even clutches him closer. This beautiful boy. Even’s so fucking stupid. “No, I just - you don’t seem at all bothered by it.”

What he doesn’t say how is much it weighs him down to even admit this, a constant anguish that he’s actually just  burden and a worry to everyone he knows, that no one can really trust he’ll take care of himself properly. It was so difficult for Sonja, but she stuck it out with him because he was too impulsive and destructive, and prone to instability and _can’t you see we need each other, Even?_   But here Isak is. Isak already knows, has known for a while, and Even never fucking realised, because Isak didn't really see him any differently. Or perhaps, more crucially, always saw him for who he was, bipolar and all. It's startling to realise this, and it fills Even's whole body with a tickling warmth.

How can he put it into words? The gratitude he feels towards Isak is overwhelming, how it clutches and claws at his chest. He presses a kiss to Isak’s forehead.

“Bothered by it?” Isak sounds confused. He shakes his head against Even’s clavicle. “No. No. If anything it’s me you should be bothered by - I’m shit at communicating how I feel. And you deserve someone not shit.”

Even's mouth is flooded with salt. Fuck. “Isak. You’re not shit.”

“Thanks,” Isak’s voice is small. “But - I’m kind of a fuck up. Actually.”

And then, without further prompting from Even, Isak proceeds to explain why he thinks he's a fuck up. Isak tells him the story of his parents, and how he came to live at the Kollektiv. He’s devastatingly quiet, and excruciatingly methodical in accounting his mother’s growing instability; the unpredictability of coming home every day after school not knowing what her mental state would be like.  And then there was the added layer of her religious zeal and it's underlying homophobia running through his every waking moment, the self-hated which incurred threatening to suffocate Isak. He's no good at opening up to people, Isak says, especially not after his father left them. Without Jonas, he's not sure where he would have ended up. He's always struggled to make new friends. It took months for him to truly bond with the rest of the Kollektiv: eventually it occurred over their shared love of watching movies. Which makes sense now, Even thinks. All those references Isak has stored up his little nerdy sleeve.

He doesn’t attempt to victimise himself, or bemoan how terrible his parents were to him, how unfair life was. Instead he just explains that he left home after a particularly harrowing episode where she thought Isak might be possessed and attempted to 'purify' him (and Even doesn't even _want_ to imagine what that entailed), and Eskild found him and took him in. After that her family sought help for her. And so it goes, Isak informs with a wisdom well beyond his years. Isak confesses how guilty he felt for abandoning her, and how guilty she felt for neglecting him, but they're doing okay now. She lives outside of Oslo near some of her sisters and a decent hospital, and Isak goes to visit her once a month. What's incredible to Even is that Isak left when it got too bad, when he couldn't help her. But then he came back: he came back to her. He doesn't even seem to resent her for what she put him through. He just wants her to be okay. 

“So, anyway. I’m sorry if I’m not very good at this,” he says quietly. "I've only ever...I guess I'm learning."

Even is saturated in guilt now, his hand brushing over Isak’s shorn hair again and again as he mulls it over. God, he’s been so fucking stupid. How has he been so fucking stupid? Even had just assumed that it was easy, convenient sex for both of them. And now he’s very aware that for Isak, none of this has been remotely easy. The worst part is that now it’s evidently clear that Isak’s never had this - _this_ being someone who wants to be around him, who likes him for who he is, who fucking cares about his well being, and fuck, fuck, fuck -

“No,” Even says finally, after a couple of moments. He kisses Isak again, blinking back the mistiness in his eyes. “No, you’re perfect.”

Soon after, Even can hear the tell tale signs of Isak’s heavy breathing; he’s fallen asleep. Even finds it very difficult to follow suit. He can’t help but realise the size of his fuck up now. Where’s the fucking line now, Even?

He is awake for a long, long while after that.

 

-

 

It’s the first weekend of break, and Even is wedged into the corner of their sectional, buried in his duvet and sulking. Adam passes him the bong but he's not even conjured the energy to load it, and he's terrified if he gets stoned that he won't be able to protect himself from his own thoughts. He’s had a hard fucking week, between finishing up the term and everything Isak-related slowly eating away at conscious. He knows he can’t keep all of this inside,  _that it’s necessary to communicate, Even, goddamnit_ \- and the boys must notice something is fucking  _Up_  with a capital U, because at one point Mutta throws down the controller and turns to him.

“Alright, spill,” he demands. “What’s eating your dick?”

“Ugh,” Even runs a hand through his hair, lacking any gel. Mikael passes him a bag of chips, which he gratefully takes and shoves a handful into his mouth at once, crums flying in the cracks of the sofa where all the other lost food lives.

“You’ve been out it all week,” Adam remarks, but his voice is still kind. “You feel depressed?”

“Not like that,” Even shakes his head. “No, it’s worse. It's actually worse. I really fucked up, guys. And you're gonna agree, when I tell you what happened.”

A beat of silence, before Adam says, “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

“No, it is. It is that bad. And it’s my fault,” Even laments. Then he sits up, passing the bong to Mutta and takes a deep breath. “You know...how I hooked up with Isak? Well, we've been hooking up now, pretty consistently. And I thought everything was totally fine, you know? He checked off every box on my list. Or so I thought. But recently he's said some stuff that..."

"Yes?" Mikael motions for him to finish his sentence. 

Even grimaces. "Recently he's said somethings that made me worry. I think he thinks we're in a relationship. Or at least heading that way very soon."

“Oh fucking hell,” Adam says, at the same time Mikael groans loudly, wagging a finger at Even. “This  _would_  happen to you.”

“I told you!” Elias cries. Even and the boys all turn to him with a collective look of surprise. “Didn’t I tell him? I told you this would happen.”

Even shakes his head. “What? No, you didn’t. You never said, ‘Don’t hook up with Isak because he’ll freaking wanna date you.’ If fact, if I remember right, you said, ‘I don’t think Isak’s that kind of dude.’  Which I felt was pretty homophobic, you know.”

But Elias isn't having any of it. " _Bro_. Bro, bro. First of all, I'm a little offended. I mean, we're all works in progress - but I did not say anything about him being gay or whatever. I said I don’t think he’s that type of guy - as in, I don’t think he’s the kind of dude to  _hook up_.”

Even is dumbfounded by this revelation. “And why exactly did you think this?”

“Because, man,” Elias frowns. “My sister talks to me, they’re friends. Fuck,  _Jonas_ is his best friend, and Jonas definitely would have said if Isak was getting any, because he's notorious in their friend group for never being interested in  _anyone_ , even when girls were downright throwing themselves at him in high school. And I listen more than you fuckers ever give me credit. From where I stand, I never once heard a story of Isak hooking up. Ever. I really kinda thought he was a bit too uptight.”

“Or he could be _shy_ ,” Yousef adds. He looks a little disgruntled, and Even hates it. "Or...not everyone is validated by random sexual encounters."

“Too right you are, bro. And...I'm sorry Even, but that’s kind of why I was surprised too,” Mutta looks reluctant to admit this. Even turns around to face him. “I mean, look at it this way. Jonas lived with us for almost a year. We're like the mostly friendly dudes you'll ever meet, if I do say so myself, and he just like...never wanted to hang out, or come around, or talk with us about anything really. And fuck, when was it? It wasn't until like last summer that we got the Isak seal of approval.  And then all of sudden you’re over here like… oh, by the way, I’m just casually fucking Isak.”

“Yeah, and we were like, wait, what?  _Isak?_ The same Isak who literally took months to join our smoke sessions, even though we invited him like every single weekend?” Adam adds on. "The same Isak who made the rarest of appearances at our parties? Who only got excited if you wanted to talk about fern spores or whatever the fuck? I mean, don't get us wrong. We really like the dude, he's chill. Plus, Jonas always reassured us that he really did like us  _too_ , so what the hell were we supposed to do? They're like brothers, and Jonas is our OG bromade."

Yousef nods. "It's true. Also, Jonas obviously has good taste in people. I always respected it, because I could tell that Isak and he were really close."

Mutta reaches over and tousles Yousef's hair affectionately, grinning playfully. His eyes are narrow and watery from coughing up half his hit. "Why are you so tender, Yousef? Tell me why you're so cute and tender. You're the filet mignonette of tenderness, aren't you babe?"

Even buries his head in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck. I had no idea. Fuck, you guys, I really don’t know what to do. Because he’s definitely caught feelings. I am freaking out because I think he thinks we’re on the same page, and you have to believe me when I say I had no fucking idea that we were on such  _different_  pages. I’m scared he thinks we’re fucking serious. Fuck. He invited me to the Kollektiv little Christmas eve.”

A round of groans follow, making him feel inestimably worse.

"That's serious, bro," Elias shakes his head slowly, enunciating each word for effect. "Serious."

“Fuck, dude,” Mikael laments, and Even is disturbed to find the face he’s wearing is one of disappointment. “You know, you’re always so aware, Even, except when you're not. I was with you two for all of  _three seconds_  and I could see right away the way he looks at you. It’s totally obvious. To everyone.”

“Everyone but me,” Even bemoans.

“Sure, if you wanna tell yourself that,” Mikael bites back. “But, like. Are you really so unaware of your behaviour towards him? You really think he just is imagining all of it? And have you asked yourself if you're certain you don't like him at all in that way? Because you should figure out how you feel, and then talk to him.”

It’s the very last thing Even wants to do. It’s not easy, but it is right. And it will probably hurt Isak a lot. A few moments bypass them in a sticky silence. Elias reloads the bong, and Mutta resumes their game. Adam casts Even one last pitying look, eating all the cold leftover pizza, leaving a trail of crusts behind. Mikael looks like he has more to say, but the moment has clearly passed and the conversation picks up on a different point, one considerably lighter, filled with video games and re-matches and which kind of delivery they should call for tonight. Yousef offers to cook, Adam tells him he's already done four nights of cooking this week and he can't personally bare another night of guilt for not reciprocating, but he's certainly not going to cook either. Even sits in the comfortable bickering and chit chat of the boys huddled around the sofa, legs and elbows overlapping and tries to focus on their noise, but knows he cannot. His brain won't allow it. And frankly, he doesn't deserve any peace.

 

-

 

Isak texts him the next morning just to say good morning and ask him what his plans are for the day. It prompts Even to then go through their entire text conversations for the last four months and in doing so, notices a disturbing pattern: Isak texts him mostly during the day, and Even, Even only very late at night. He’s like a walking fuckboy meme, and he’s never been more disturbed. Even watches as the little grey bubbles disappear and reappear, until finally another message comings sailing through. It’s an image attached, and with a heavy heart, he clicks on it.

It’s a drawing, one he drew months ago and forget even existed. He’s always doodling shit on the inside of his margins or on random scrap paper when he’s bored. The one in question is a rudimentary rendering of cartoon Isak wearing a lopsided crown, hidden behind a fortress of textbooks fashioned like a castle, complete with a little moat drawn in the middle. A speech bubble that says “Shh! You’re going to get us invaded for being so loud!”

Isak [9:54]: It was my bookmark forever, but I think it looks better here, no?

Even peers closer. It’s taped up near the big map, with all his little Latin-labelled flags. The only other thing hanging up is a photo of Isak, Jonas and Eva - presumably from when they were still in school, if judging by the length of Isak’s hair and the innocent roundness of his little face.

Even [9:55]: I don’t know, you think it’s worthy hanging up there next to your map?

Isak [9:57]: oh, I think it’s very worthy. I happen to know the artist.

Fuck this. He doesn’t want to think about these sweet little tributes Isak is dedicating to him. The truth is Even hardly remembers drawing that cartoon, which contradicts so terribly the reception these little nothing-gestures receive; Even’s brain only supplies him with torturous images of Isak coveting that scrap paper for months in his hulking biochemistry text. It induces a guilt ridden nausea.

Even [10:04] haha, very cute. Wanna meet up later, and maybe the artist can show u his gratitude?

Isak [10:05] Damn, wish i could. But i’m visiting my mother today and won’t be back until Tuesday. Think u can wait?

Even [10:06] ...i’ll try. It’ll be a hardship tho. i miss ur dick.

Isak [10:06] oh, poor you :(

Isak [10:07] idk if i’ll see you when i get back tho, bc it’ll be the 23rd. But like I said before, you’re welcome to join us

Isak [10:11] no pressure tho

Isak [10:15] <3

The hookup list, the rules, the ease in which all of it fell into Even’s lap - it all began as some kind of joke to Even. He just wanted to try something - someone new. To distract him from his break up. It was supposed to harmless: just a newly single dude with a pansexual bone to pick, searching for a partner in crime to experiment sexually with - and he thought he found this with Isak. Isak was game to fuck around, to follow Even’s lead, to never ask for more than what Even was willing to give him. After all, Even had been just dumped. He thought that meant they both understood that a relationship wasn’t on the horizon.

And yet, he never actually said any of that, did he? How many times did he ever bring up Sonja, or where he saw this going? Probably less than five times, and when he recounts those moments they all seem really vague considering how clear it all felt in Even’s head. How ridiculous Even realises he’s been. Isak is so genuine, and considerate, and understanding, even when he’s being a snarky little shit. Even could have been honest with him. No, Even should have been honest with him.

How come he just didn’t say: hey, is it cool if we just keep this like, a sexual thing right now? I’m trying to figure out who I am without my ex, and I don’t want to hurt you if that’s not what you want either.

Well, he knows why he didn’t. Because it was fucking nice and it was nice from the beginning. Because he didn't want to scare Isak away; because he didn’t want to lose his fun and cool new fuck buddy to the truth, if it turned out Isak  _did_ want more. And Even really hates it: he hates that the real reason he never said anything is because he’s a coward.

By late afternoon their front buzzer sounds and Even finally pulls himself from his bed to answer it. The flat is blissfully empty; otherwise Even would have never been able to mope this long without loud and frequent interference from the boys. Or maybe not: now that they know, he really doesn’t think they pity him for feeling guilty.

It’s mildly surprising to find Jonas on the other side of their door after Even buzzes him up, but what’s more surprising is the strange, stoney silence that engulfs them once they’re standing in the living room.

“I’m not sure what time any of the boys will be back, but you’re welcome to just kick it until then,” Even says for lack of anything else.

“Er, I actually came to see you,” Jonas hedges, and Even realises he’s not imagining it now, things really do feel awkward between them.

“Oh,” Even scratches the back of his head. “Okay, cool. So what’s up?”

“Well - ” Jonas seems kind of constipated, words caught in the back of his throat. But he manages. “Ehrm...so I was with Eva, right? Her friend Vilde was over, and so was Noora and Sana. And they're all talking about how the boys told them that _you_ told them Isak is gay?”

“Shit,” Even shakes his head. “About that. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise - “

“You didn’t realise?” Jonas interrupts, and his voice turns abruptly sour, “Yeah, I can see that. I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it, but like - you know he came out to me last year, right? And we’ve been friends for nearly our entire lives.”

“Shit,” Even groans. Jonas nods slowly like he’s a huge idiot.

“And it took him fucking ages.  _Ages_. So imagine my surprise when nearly everyone - including my own girlfriend, who I hadn't told, by the way - knows about this. I mean, everyone's chill about it, and - no one was talking shit. But I don’t think you understand how uncomfortable Isak is with people speaking on his behalf. Especially without him knowing either.”

Even nods vigorously “Fuck, you’re totally right. I’m so sorry. I should have talked to Isak first - I should have asked him, before…”

“Yeah,” Jonas eyes widen, really kicking up a pace now. “Yeah. That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Listen, I know you two are hooking up, and at first, I was super like, pumped for it, you know? Isak was excited, I was excited, it was one big fucking yay-Even party, man. But then...I started thinking. I heard all about your hook up list you started this year, and the boys - when I had my party, they told me you were still doing the list. Which was weird. Because Isak's never mentioned anything about this. At all.”

“The hook up list doesn’t have anything to do with Isak - ”

“Well I fucking hope  _not_ ,” Jonas bites. He’s glaring at Even, and the heat behind it makes him feel about three centimetres tall. “Because that would be like, supremely fucked up. I mean, I know it's all in good fun, but thing is,  _the fucking thing is_ man, it’s really fucked up if what you’re doing with Isak is just some sex and a funny conquest list to you. Because that’s not what it is for him.”

“No,” Even just grounds out, feeling his tongue stick to the back of his throat. “No, of course he's not just a conquest. And I - I didn’t think consider what it all could mean, with Isak...”

“No?” Jonas echoes back. He huffs out a derisive sigh. “‘  _You didn’t consider ...’_ God. Well, fuck. There we go. You know, I'm actually surprised. I thought you would have totally set me straight on all this shit and I would have left all embarrassed for coming over here and getting up in your business. But...you don’t have any idea...you've basically confirmed what I feared the most. And you know what the worst part about this whole thing is?” 

He can only lamely shake his head. He doesn’t know how much worse it can get.

Jonas just shakes his head in disbelieving anger, hands gesture from his chest to out in front of him. “The worst fucking part is he’s been so fucking happy, man. He’s the most happy I think I’ve ever seen him. This is all new for him, and you - he thinks he’s  _in love_ with you.”

Even’s heart explodes, and he can’t take any more. He can’t.

Jonas fixes him with another withering look. “Do you even want to be with him, or what?”

“Fuck, Jonas, I swear, I never intended for this to happen, I didn't realise that he felt like this - that list was just a joke and - ”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter what your intentions are, because if it turns out you're fucking stringing him along for - whatever fucking reason, then like. _Dude._ If he finds out about any of this, it will fuck up all his shit again, and he won’t wanna trust anyone or let anyone in and I swear to God, it took me years for him to just - ” Jonas takes another deep sigh, and a little of the fight seems to seep out of him. “Fuck, I don’t even want to think about what  _that’s_ gonna be like. Cause it’ll be so shitty, dude.”

“Does he know?” Even asks softly. He’s scared to blink, in case he starts to cry. “Did you tell him?”

Jonas gives him an interrogating look. A little reluctantly, he admits, “No. I haven’t said anything. I wouldn’t even be here on Isak’s behalf in the first place, because he’s nothing if not ridiculously stubborn." He’s pacing in their small living space.“But you have no idea, you have no idea some of this shit he’s been through…."

“I understand that,” Even nods. And then amends, “I mean, I’m starting to understand.”

“Right,” Jonas nods. “I’m not gonna say anything to him. It would be so fucking humiliating, man. But you have to figure it out. You have to figure it out immediately. Otherwise I will tell him and he probably won’t speak to you again. And that’s going to fucking suck, because we’re all friends and Isak will never wanna hang out with the boys and it'll be because of you, and then it’ll just be him sitting in his room thinking he’ll be forever fucking alone and no one will want him again and I will never fucking forgive you if that happens. I really won’t.”

He pictures Isak finding out. His smile faltering, cheeks pulled taut with a carefully blank stare. He imagines how he would say it, telling Isak it was only meant to be sex, that he just wanted to hook up and he didn’t really want to be in a relationship. He imagines Isak would nod with understanding. There probably wouldn't even be an argument. He would just accept immediately that Even doesn’t want him, because who would, right? Even feels sick to his stomach. It’s made worse when he realises he’d probably have to let Isak know he accidentally outed him to the boys and he really didn’t mean for it get this far, but now it has, and it’s got to end now.

Days ago, Even would have probably defended himself: well how could I have known if he wanted more? But it's very clear to him now: he never really asked either, did he? He’s never been selfish before, not really. He truly didn’t think to consider what Isak must have thought whenever Even complimented him or texted him or sat with him in the library. That’s just how Even _is_. Funny, charismatic, tall-as-fuck-Even. But how was Isak supposed to know that? How was Isak supposed to know not to take it seriously, not to guard every little gesture of affection or stupid drawings Even gave him with his entire being?

Goddammit, there's no holding back tears now. His chest feels split open and fraught with disbelief on how terrible this is turning out to be. He brings his hands up to hide his face and the wetness growing there rapidly. “I don’t want that,” Even says through his fingers. “I know this is - I know this looks really fucking bad, from my end. And I don’t have any defence except that I've been really fucking stupid and careless with the last person I should have been careless or stupid around. But - ” he takes a breath, “I really care about him. I really fucking do. I promise.”

“Thank fuck,” Jonas agrees. “God. I’m wiped. I hate being angry like this, it really misaligns my chakras. I’m gonna smoke a bowl and then peace out. Elias owes me some weed anyway.”

“Of course,” Even nods and then he slumps down in the sofa cushions, the world piling down on top of him. Then, because he might as well lie it all out there, "You know, I've always been pretty low-key jealous of your friendship with the boys. But now I really understand how good of a friend you are, Jonas."

Jonas coughs a little, nodding. "Thanks, man. And listen, I know...I don't hate the idea of you and Isak together. I just - we were super high when the girls were talking about it, and I started getting really fucking paranoid, and thank God Isak isn't here, because then you wouldn't have had the benefit of realising what you did. But now is the time to make good."

"I - don't hate the idea of Isak and I being together, either," Even realises this as it comes out of his mouth, "But I just...I just got out of a relationship, and I wasn't - I just didn't know what I wanted, okay? The list was just a joke. But Isak is not. He really is not a joke at all to me."

"I hope so, Even," Jonas sounds impossibly world-weary now, for his tender age of nineteen. "It's funny, I used to be kinda jealous of you too. The coolest dude the boys knew, they'd always tell me. I know you're a cool fucking dude, too. But with Isak...well, I'll believe it when I see it."

Even nods. Fair enough. 

He can’t even bring himself to feel sad for himself and the epic chewing out he just received from Jonas. He doesn’t want to sit and swim around in pity for his situation. Even is resilient; Even will survive this. No, the terrible ache in his gut is for Isak, who followed Even’s lead so happily, who trusted Even without a doubt, who handed over his heart and assumed Even was good enough to keep it safe. Assumed Even deserved it in the first place.

 

-

 

Even Bech Næsheim’s Potential Kiss List Rules (Autumn Edition) 

Must be Cute as Fuck (non-negotiable) - CHECK

Must be okay with flirting, kissing and mutually assured orgasms (consent!) - CHECK

Must have a healthy appreciation for film and music (at least, somewhat) - CHECK

Must be able to be friendly, and to end it at any time (ideally) - CHECK

Must not develop any feelings (Too serious. It’s time for fun now). - ???

Even has looked at his list probably fifty times now, re-reading it with a masochistic dedication.  He’s supposed to go to his parents this morning but texted them with some excuse so as to buy  some time. It’s not exactly a flat out lie: his room is a fucking mess, clothes and books strewn everywhere, and he’s in desperate need of a shower. He just can’t bring himself to yet, instead curled up in his duvet, watching the city blink underneath a shroud of clean snow and feeling utterly miserable.

He knows that the very second time he and Isak slept together, they should have discussed what each of them wanted out of it. Maybe Isak would have even agreed with Even back then, before it developed into everything it is now. Instead Even had just asked what kind of lube Isak preferred, and both of them had kind of shrugged, unsure. Silicon or oil based? Another realisation strikes him: Even always just assumed that Isak was not only out but probably pretty experienced - because -who the fuck walks around looking like that and hasn’t slept around a little? At least, this was Even’s very ignorant assumption.

But now he thinks back, this time without his rose-tinted fuck buddy glasses. Isak and his shyness to take off his clothes first: letting Even take them off for him. Isak and his nervous giggling as he fumbled with the condom, how fiercely he would blush those first few times when Even would comment on his body, beautiful and slender and strong. Isak and his preference for that love-making type of sex Even found so redundant and boring before. And Even, Even was so self-absorbed, so thrilled to finally feel something at all - never stopped to reflect a moment.

Even knew what Isak was doing to him. But did he ever consider what Even was doing to Isak?

What’s more is Even can’t act on any of these realisations now. It’s the fucking holidays: he’s not going to go over to the Kollektiv just to dump Isak now. Shame flushes through him at the idea, at the disappointment that surely would follow when everyone slowly finds out how stupid Even was, how much of a player he apparently is. And Even wouldn’t have any defense for it. Because he knows if this were Mutta or Adam or Elias, he would be saying the same thing to them: man, what the hell were you thinking?

Even asks himself this now. What the hell were you thinking, Even?

Here is the disappointing reality of it all: he doesn’t really know.

 

-

 

In his haste, he spent the entire tram ride on the phone with his mother, explaining - for the first fucking time - that there’s a new someone and he’s going to spend a couple hours over there celebrating before coming home. She’d asked: well this is surprising. Are you sure you aren't intruding on their family time? And he’d answered, with a sinking heart: it’s complicated. But I’m invited, and I want to be there.

Alright, Even. We’ll see you when we see you then.

So here he stands, in a dusting of snow flurries, ringing the bell for the Kollektiv and hoping someone will answer. He hasn't texted Isak since Sunday, what with everything that transpired with Jonas. He felt so transparent and guilty. Fortitude isn’t exactly Even’s strong suit.

The door swings open, and there Isak stands. He’s not wearing a hat and Even can see his hair has grown out quite a bit, blonder than he expected and brushed back from his forehead.

“Oh,” Isak breathes, and then his face splits into the most gracious smile. Even’s heart clenches at the sight of it. He looks so, so happy. “Hey. You’re just in time. We’re about to start the film. Come in, come in.”

“Isak -” Even starts, a well of panic in him, and Isak stops, peering at him curiously. “I - just wanted to say Happy Christmas.”

Isak smiles, looking down at his toes. Even looks down at his socked feet too. There’s a single tiny hole in the big toe, and Even can see a little flash of peachy skin. “You too.”

Even steps forward, incapable of resisting: he hugs Isak, hugs him like it could be the first time or the last time, regardless, he pours everything he has in it.

“You’re covered in snow,” Isak mumbles against Even’s neck. Even chuckles and pulls back. “Let’s get you inside.”

Even obliges. Isak takes his coat and scarf, and Even toes off his shoes, and together they go into the lounge, where Eskild, Linn and Noora are all sitting on the sofas.

“Hello, Handsome!” Eskild sing-songs, a red Santa hat sitting lopsided on his head. “So glad you could join us! Linn! Linn! Get this man a drink immediately.”

Linn rolls her eyes, rising from the sofa and nevertheless returning with a tall glass of gløgg. “Cheers,” Even says to her. He takes a sip, and feels it trail down his throat and warm up his chest. “Ah, amazing. Isak told me you make it yourself?”

This seems to bring a smile out of Linn. “That is correct. I have a secret family recipe.”

“It’s hardly secret Linn!” Noora teases. She's rosy cheeked and wearing sparkly nailpolish, whispering behind her hand, “If she gets drunk enough she’ll tell you.”

Linn doesn’t deny this. She nods matter-of-fact.

Isak motions for Even to sit next to him on the love-seat, and Eskild flops down between Noora and Linn, and for a few minutes they argue over how to best arrange the blankets. Even feels strangely out of body here, completely disassociated with all that has been circling around in his head the last few days. Now it’s easy: it’s so easy to be here in the moment, with Isak curled up next to him, and forget all his sorrows.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you,” Even murmurs into his head. Isak just shakes his head.

“It’s fine. I had a feeling,” Isak says, and he doesn’t expand on what he means. But then Even realises he doesn’t have to: Noora presses play on the movie, and a few moments later Hugh Grant’s opening monologue of Love Actually starts. Touched doesn’t even begin to articulate how Even feels. This gut-clenching feeling, this vice grip around his heart: Isak had faith in him. He’s not sure anyone’s ever had faith in him before.

 

-

 

Later, tipsy on gløgg and elated with the reaction Love Actually caused amongst the Kollektiv, Even follows Isak back to his bedroom. It’s a little after nine at night, and he knows he can’t stay very much longer. He has four unread texts from his mother, probably wondering about his whereabouts.

“I know you probably have to go soon,” Isak murmurs, letting go of Even’s hand to look for something on his desk. Even sits down on the bed, and like a magnetic pull, his eyes are drawn to the cartoon drawing hanging next to the map.

When Isak turns back around he’s holding something wrapped up in tissue paper, clutched against his stomach. Even takes the moment to appreciate his comfy sweater and pyjama pants: he realises they have little Christmas trees on them. He looks adorable, even without the reindeer headband Even originally imagined.

“Uh-oh,” Even groans, “Isak, what is that?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Isak teases. “Just - thank you for coming tonight. I wasn’t - I didn’t want to like, make you feel like you had to. I’m sure your parents aren’t too happy.”

“You didn’t,” he says. What comes out of his mouth next is the truth, he realises. “I wanted to be here.”

It feels nice to say it. Isak smiles and sits next to him. He pushes the little lumpy ball of tissue paper into Even's lap and gestures to it. Even sends him a hesitant look, dawdling a little about opening it. When he does, he finds himself holding a knitted hat, this one forest green with little flecks of maroon in it. Like the colours of his flannel. It’s nearly identical to the hat Isak has, down to it’s imperfect stitch and little resulting gaps in the pattern.

“My mother wanted to make you one,” Isak explains. “You don’t have to wear it, if it’s not your thing.”

Even doesn’t know what to say. He clutches it to his chest, trying to stifle a trembling sigh.

“Isak,” he says. His voice falters: weak, quivering. Words are a loss to him. Isak just snakes an arm around his shoulders, and together they sit outfitted in the orange lamplight. “I love it. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Isak sounds slightly taken aback by the ferocity of Even’s reaction, but all the same, his smile is clear and apparent in his tone of voice. He presses a kiss to Even’s cheek, and then another for good measure. “I’m just happy you like it.”

 

-

 

Christmas is a sublime designation of his mother’s abilities, their house covered in little gnomes and wreaths, the Christmas tree lit up in the centre of their living room. It’s so nice to see his parents, Even realises, to distract himself from everything else, though most of his efforts are pretty futile.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” his mother asks him on the morning of Christmas eve. They’re eating his dad’s pork roast, and Even’s found himself lacking in anything to contribute to the conversation, and his parents have probably noticed at this point. Last night too he had hardly said anything, instead going almost straight to sleep after arriving.

Even sighs. “I’m feeling a little down.”

“Oh,” his father says. “You wanna tell us about it?”

His parents really are quite amazing: since his diagnosis, they’ve spent years reading and educating themselves on the disorder to try and help Even. But more than that, they really want to understand him. He looks around at all the food on the table and the plenitude of presents sitting under the tree, the expectation of a few games to be played this evening after everyone’s drank some Christmas wine and the music has simmered to a low quell in the backdrop to all the festivities. It’s such a contract to what Isak must associate with Christmas, it gives him a stomach ache.

“I don’t know,” Even shrugs. Then. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“A bad person?” his mother is clearly taken back. “No, Even. Of course not. What’s brought this on?”

“I - after Sonja and I broke up, I…” Even starts. He can’t seem to stop sighing. “I just worry sometimes that I don’t think about other people enough.”

“Honey,” Even’s dad puts his fork down and folds his hands together under his chin. He’s the most thoughtful man Even knows, and strives to be like. “It’s hard for any of us to strike a balance between thinking of ourselves and thinking of others.”

Even’s mother nods. “And don’t forget, you spent many years thinking of Sonja first, and you second. It’s normal to feel a little strange about putting yourself first now.”

“Your mother is exactly right,” Even’s father smiles. He pats Even’s hand, his palm teeming with warmth. “We have never thought you were a bad person. Ever. You’re very, very good, son.”

Even knows his parents are probably right, but they also have no idea what’s transpired these last few months. But one thing is clear: He wants to be as good as they say.

 

-

 

Exactly six days since little Christmas eve with the Kollektiv, and three days since many of main celebrations have commenced, Even finds himself sitting outside his therapist office for a last-minute appointment. Despite his conversation with his parents, the rest of the holiday did little to assuage his mood, which remained low in spirit and bordered on seclusivity. His mother, proactive and careful as Even’s always known her to be, woke him up this morning and drove him to the office.

He tries to appreciate her prudence. The precursors to a depressive episode are becoming apparent, and Even, Even isn’t quite at that point where he can seek his own help. It’s not that bad, his brain tells him, you’ve just been tired. But that’s not quite honest. Sometimes he needs his mother to lend him a hand.

“Things are going to be okay, dearest,” she tells him, the back of her hand coming up to brush against his cheek. “I know you’re a bit sad. But things will work out, okay?”

Even nods heavily. “You’re right. You’re right, mamma. Thanks for bringing me.”

“Of course,” she nods. “I’ll be back in an hour, okay? We can do whatever you want after.”

 

-

 

Even doesn't know how therapy will help - if anything, recounting the story of he and Isak will only serve to reinforce the error of his ways. But his therapist only fixes him with a long look towards the end of their session and asks, "Even, if you do not want to be with this person, then you don't have to. You aren't responsible for everyone all the time. You are only responsible for what you do, and what you want, and how you represent those things to those around you. Do you want to end it with Isak?"

Does he? Even's not sure he's asked this question. He's thought obsessively about what it would look like to break the news to Isak: the distressing response of Isak shutting down and turning away from him, the humiliation of realising everyone around him knows that Even didn't really want him like _that_ , the fear that he'd soon figure hear about the hook up list - all of it spinning in cycles in Even's head without avail. Continuously tormenting his thoughts on loop.

And yet, for the first time, he pictures what it could be like to not be around Isak anymore: no more sex, for starters. No more watching Isak's mouth drop when Even did that _particular_ thing with his tongue - no more paying witness to the delicious flush spread across his chest and the sweat collecting along his temples. No more Isak reaching for him in the dark, teasing, running his hands down Even's torso. Even pictures how they looked together in his bedroom mirror: the divinity of their bodies, overlapping, seeking, undeniably together.

But it's more than just that. It is, isn't it, Even? Gone goes the after-sex joint shared between them, Isak curling his body in like a comma around Even's, pressing his foot along the pale line of his calf. Gone are the texts Even would surely miss, arriving randomly throughout the day. Certainly gone would be the daily study dates in the library, or the coffee breaks in between, or all the kebab shops they haven't yet tried together in the city, or all the mixed parties where all their friends will inevitably be.

Gone would be the easy symbiotic trust Even's acquired from Isak. Isak, who trusted no one, who is unbearably shy, who pretends it doesn't matter, when it does. When it does. Ending it with Isak will be the end of every endearing smile pointed towards Even. No more bubble just for them to exist within, protected from the outside world; no more rapt attention Isak holds for Even, holds only for him. That will all end. Gone goes to the melancholic gaze Isak affixes to Even, part loving, part wistful. Gone goes his kiss on the side of Even's face. Gone goes every Kollektiv tradition, every shy hand brushing against his - seeking permission to hold it. Will he bear to lose it? Will he withstand it? All of that will go away, and Even can single again. And he wants to be single, doesn't he?

But then: there's Isak's mother. Isak's own battles with mental health and his total acceptance of Even, of his bipolar - and he's never flinched once, has he? He never made Even feel anything but wanted, admired, and loved. The truth is, Even realises now, there isn't anyone quite like Isak out there. At least, Even's not willing to find out, when he's right here in front of him. Where he's been this entire time. 

For days, Even has envisioned how to end it, how it would hurt Isak. But had he given any thought to how it might hurt him?

Like strings snapping, one by one, Even begins to understand. Slowly at first, and then all at once. 

 

-

 

And then there’s after. After, Even asks his mother to drive to an address she’s never been before, not so far away from their neighbourhood that she’s nervous but a good enough distance that she’s plainly curious.

Even asks her to park on the street. They sit together in the middle of a stoic, metropolitan tundra, a blanket of quiet stretching as far as Even can see, from every possible angle. Every road goes on and on, seemingly endless.

“What are we doing here?” she asks.

Even nods, gathering up his courage. “There’s something I have to do. Or, there’s something I have to make right. Now.”

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

He nods. “I’ll call you, okay? I promise I’ll text you and let you know. But everything’s okay. Or at least it will be. I swear.”

“Okay, honey,” she says. Even gets out of the car and the wind whips at his face, stinging his skin and flooding his mouth with damp wet snow. He stands for a moment in the street and looks up: it’s been six days since he’s been here, and many more since the first time he ever stepped foot in the Kollektiv. He takes the steps one at a time in a measured patience, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“Oh, hello,” Noora is the one who answers the door. She smiles sweetly at Even, her mouth absent of red lipstick. She looks younger. “I’m worried Isak is still asleep. But come on in.”

“Thanks,” Even says, “Nice Christmas?”

“Christmas isn’t really my thing,” Noora shrugs, and right. Even remembers. He takes his winter coat and his scarf off and hangs them on the hook, his shoes following.

“Well, then aren’t you glad it’s over?”

“Indeed. And it’s almost New Years! You’re coming to our New Years Party, right? Isak told you about it, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Even lies, “I hope I can make it.”

They part ways when Even arrives in front of Isak’s door. He stands there for a beat longer, and then thinks: here we go, Even. This is the moment. There’s no turning back now.

Inside, Isak isn’t sleeping, but instead propped up in his bed, and after a second Even realises he’s taking notes from a textbook. It does a funny little thing to his stomach. Does this boy ever stop studying? It’s fucking  winter break. As in, it’s time to take a break from university.

As soon as Isak sees him, his face brightens with a smile and he sets his book down. “Hey!” surprise evident in his voice. “Hey, what are you doing here? It’s snowing pretty heavy out.”

“It is,” Even acknowledges. “I came to see you. I wanted to talk.”

“Oh,” Isak looks unsure as how to react to this, so he doesn’t react at all. Instead his hands come to sit in his lap. “Okay. Sure. What’s up?”

“I - “ Even starts. Then stops. He slides a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“That’s okay,” he nods. “You can just start anywhere you want.”

“Right.”

“Maybe at the beginning?” Isak helpfully supplies.

“The beginning. Right. No, no, let me start at the end first,” Even knows he’s not making much sense, but soon it will become apparent how to explain everything, how to soften the swollen beat of his heart, the blood rushing in his ears.

“Okay. The end, then.” Isak’s back is more straight than he’s ever seen it, all of his attention on Even. Face carefully composed.

“Ugh. Shit. No, let me start at the beginning actually. Okay, the beginning is this: when university had started again, I had just gotten out of this long ass relationship. I wasn't really all that sad or anything, but I just didn't really know what to do. And I was...I don’t know, baffled by single life. I didn’t really get it, but I wanted to try to. I don’t even know. Meet other people,” Even starts. “And then, I met you. And I experienced this really...intense sexual connection to you. When we first starting fucking around.”

“I remember,” Isak nods. He attempts a little joke. “I was there.”

Even is pacing in front of the bed now. “Right. But then - ugh. It is more than that and I was just scared, you know? I spent a lot of my time denying things that were very obviously right fucking in front of me, and deluding myself to believing things that weren't true. And most of the time I just didn't think at all, because it was confusing.”

He sits down on the bed now. “I know this probably sounds so ridiculous. But I actually got really upset about it. It was doing my head in. So today I went to my therapist and talked about it.”

“Oh,” Isak says, clearly lost as to where this is heading. His body is so stiff as he sits here, taking in everything Even’s telling him. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah. Well, I realised a few things,” Even nods profusely. “Firstly, I was freaking out because I thought it would be - I don’t know, bad luck or something, to try and be with someone right after I was just with someone else? Like it was gonna jinx it. And then I was freaking out because - because it started to feel like - so much, you know? And I was telling myself bullshit because I didn’t want to acknowledge it, and the truth is - here's the fucking truth. It's - you - _you_. Isak. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Ever.”

Even feels out of breath, his face flushed and burning. Isak looks at him with his bedroom eyes, those long blonde lashes, and then he nods. It’s a swift relief, Even realises. With a lick of his lips, he whispers, “Neither have I.”

“Yes,” Even mumbles. He knows this. “Anyway. The point is I…I just wanted to tell you that I love you. And I’m sorry if that wasn’t very clear before. But it’s very clear from where I stand now.”

“Even,” Isak grins and now he’s reaching for him, his clammy hands coming up to cup both of his cheeks and he nudges his nose against Even’s; from this angle his faded freckles are arranged like Orion’s belt, his breath hot against Even’s mouth. He smells like coffee. This beautiful boy, Even thinks, heart clenching, heart four sizes too big for his body. He kisses him, and then pulls back.

“Even, it’s okay.”

“There are other things I have to say, though,” Even murmurs after they’ve been kissing for a couple of minutes, Isak curled up on his lap. “You should know everything.”

“We have time,” Isak says. “Lots of time. I always thought in a different universe, we’d met earlier and I wasn’t so - and you weren’t - but now I don’t think this at all. Now I’m so thankful that we met the way we did.”

“The truth is,” he adjusts his arms around Isak so they’re no longer two bodies but one intertwining soul, “The truth is you have made me more happy than I've been in a very long time.”

Isak only kisses him, little fringes of his golden hair dusting his forehead. “Me too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> What's funny about this is I planned to write a 5k fic, and now it's looking to be around 20k. Woops.
> 
> I'm on tumblr [here](http://odeto-psyche.tumblr.com), come say hello if you fancy! And thank you for reading.
> 
> Alt er love.


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